


First Impressions

by Rinnchann



Series: Firsts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beta Wanted, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinnchann/pseuds/Rinnchann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When eleven-year-old Harry finds out he's a wizard, he realizes he has a chance at a different life; he could finally have friends! So when he meets another first year Hogwarts student for the first time, he's anxious to make a good first impression, and hopefully a first friend. This is the first story in the "Firsts" series, and it covers year one at Hogwarts.<br/>Last chapter coming soon!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Madam Malkin's

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations originally created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Everything with a * is a direct quote or a very close adaptation of a quote from the books. Quotes from various outside sources, if used, are cited at the end of each chapter. If I miss something, tell me in the comments, please!
> 
> Author's Notes: This fanfiction is an AU, though it follows the canon closely in some respects. I plan on posting twice a month on the 1st and the 15th, but please bear with me if I sometimes post late, I will try my best.
> 
> And just to give you an idea of where this is going, here's an excerpt from a chapter of the later installations in the series:  
> As he sat staring into the fireplace, contemplating what may be the most important and dangerous decision of his life, Draco thought back to the first time they met. It was at Madam Malkin’s, and they were both purchasing their first Hogwarts robes. Draco had struck up a conversation, and although it hadn’t seemed to be going very well at first, for some reason, Harry had accepted his offer of friendship.  
> “What would I be doing now if we had never become friends? What kind of person would I have become?” Draco mused aloud. _And would we have ever shared our first kiss?_ he wondered silently, remembering the heated moment, running his fingers through Harry’s hair, Harry pulling at his shirt, deepening the kiss...  
>  “I didn’t realize you were so philosophical, Draco,” said a voice from behind him. Draco was on his feet in a flash, his wand pointing at where he had heard the voice come from, but there was no one there...

Harry was feeling a little overwhelmed when he walked into Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. He was carrying more money than he’d ever had in his whole life, shopping for supplies for a wizarding school, and everyone here seemed to know his name. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being famous; he didn’t much like being stared at.

*A smiling, middle-aged witch dressed in mauve robes greeted him at the door. 

“Hogwarts, dear?” she said, “Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.” 

In the back of the shop, a pale, blonde-haired boy with grey eyes and an angular face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began pinning it to the right length. 

“Hullo,” said the boy, “Hogwarts too?” 

“Yes,” said Harry. 

“My father’s next door buying books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully my father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”* 

Pathetic as it was, this may be the most Harry had ever spoken with anyone his age besides Dudley, and it was certainly the first time he had spoken to another wizard his age. This was his chance at a new life, and he didn’t want to be an outcast or an oddity like in Little Whinging. Harry wanted to make a good first impression. Searching his brain for something to continue the conversation, he recalled the boys who’d had their noses pressed against the window in front of the broomstick store down the street. “You mean like a… Nimbus Two Thousand?” he asked, pleased to have remembered the name they had whispered. 

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be the fastest ever! Have you ridden one?” the boy asked eagerly. 

“No. Actually, I’ve… never ridden a broom before,” Harry admitted with a shrug. Harry didn’t mind that he didn’t know much about magic, he was just thrilled to be having such a normal conversation. The boy had a bit of a snobbish air about him, but he was friendly enough, and he hadn’t tried to shake his hand or thanked him for saving the wizarding world, or any of that stuff people had been doing to him all day. 

“Never ridden a broom? But didn’t your parents ever get you a training broom?” 

“Both my parents are dead,” he replied softly and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t really the first thing he wanted people to know about him. He glanced back at the boy only to find him staring at Harry’s forehead. 

“Ah, sorry for your loss. But was that… are you… you’re Harry Potter!” the boy exclaimed a little too loud. Madame Malkin jumped a little and then smiled at Harry—he might have been mistaken, but her smile seemed a little wider than before. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, you’ll probably be the most well-known student at Hogwarts from day one,” the boy said, although he didn’t look particularly pleased about it. 

“Yeah, it’s been strange, people I don’t even know have been coming up to shake my hand and talk to me. I don’t really like the attention much, I don’t remember doing anything, and I don’t know very much of anything, not even how to fly a broom,” Harry said with a self-deprecating smile. 

The boy was silent for a moment as he studied Harry’s face. He looked confused, but eventually shrugged. “I guess a life in the spotlight isn’t for everyone,” he said in a knowing tone. 

Harry didn’t reply. He was disappointed that his brief chance at a normal conversation had ended so abruptly. Besides, the boy seemed a little self-important, and Harry was getting impatient to leave the store; he didn’t fancy having another person fawning over him, and he was sure Madam Malkin was now moving slower than before and looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. 

“I am really sorry about your parents though, I heard they were really gifted at magic,” the boy said, much more sincerely this time, “It must have been difficult growing up without them.” 

No one had ever said that to Harry before, not directly, at least. His aunt and uncle were probably only sorry that his parents were dead because it stuck them with Harry, and Hagrid could hardly bring himself to say the word “parents” without tearing up. And, while he knew they probably had good intentions, all these people coming up to shake his hand only thanked him for something he didn’t even remember, and not a one mentioned his parents who he just learned had sacrificed their lives for him or asked what life had been like without them. So, hearing someone finally acknowledge that was kind of a big deal. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

“And I could teach you how to ride a broom… if you like,” the boy said, his eyes sliding to the floor for just a moment before he raised his gaze and continued, “*Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree.* Though I’m sure you have some natural talent anyways, I’m sure I’d be a good teacher.” 

Harry met the boy’s pale blue gaze, but the boy only held it for a second before sliding his eyes to the side and shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“Don’t fret, you’ll be done in just a moment, dear,” said Madam Malkin. 

“Yes, well, I don’t have all day,” he snapped. 

Harry considered the boy for a moment. He seemed an awful lot like Dudley, but sometimes it seemed like he was just pretending. When the boy wasn’t putting on airs, he didn’t seem so different from Harry--he was nervous and shy too. Harry actually thought he might like the boy when he was sincere, and was glad that he didn’t seem as star-struck as everyone else he had met so far. _And it would be nice to have a friend at school…_ , Harry thought. 

“Ok, I would like that,” Harry finally replied. 

The boy’s eyes flashed back to Harry’s, and he broke out into a relieved smile. However, before he could say anything, Madam Malkin stood up and patted Harry on the shoulder. 

*“That’s you done, my dear,” she said, and Harry promptly hopped down from the footstool.* 

“Wait. Before you go, let me introduce myself. I’m Draco Malfoy, my family is one of the oldest pureblood wizarding families in all of Europe,” the boy said, his voice brimming with pride. “A lot of people will try to get close to you, latch on to your fame. *You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”* He extended his hand. 

*“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” said Harry.* Draco raised an eyebrow and started to drop his outstretched hand, but Harry reached out to grab it. 

“I don’t mind being friends though,” he said, smiling. Draco froze and stared at their clasped hands for a moment until a cough from Madame Malkin seemed to startle him to his senses. “You’re finished too, dear.” 

“You ‘don’t mind’? Your enthusiasm is touching,” Draco said dryly. “But I suppose we could be friends,” he drawled. He dropped Harry’s hand and jumped down from his footstool. 

Just then, there was a tap on the window and Harry saw Hagrid outside, grinning and holding up his hands, each of which was holding an ice cream cone. 

“Well, I’d better run. Guess I’ll see you at school,” Harry said, and he rushed out the door. 

***

Draco watched through the window. Harry grabbed one of the ice creams just as it was about to slide off the cone and licked it. He broke into a grin, and Draco felt himself begin to grin as well. He watched Harry walk away with the giant man who had tapped on the window. 

So that’s Harry Potter. And he said we could be friends, Draco thought to himself, still grinning. At that moment, Narcissa Malfoy glided through the door. 

“Mother, you’ll never believe who I just met. Harry Potter!” he exclaimed. 

Draco regaled his mother with the story as they walked down the street to meet his father at the bookstore. She listened silently, the corners of her eyes slightly crinkled as though she were trying to hide a smile. 

“That’s wonderful, darling,” she said when he finished giving her the details of their conversation. “Of course, my charming boy would make friends so quickly.” They met Lucius outside the bookstore. “Father. Father, you’re never going to believe—“ Draco began, but Lucius held up a hand. 

“Come, Draco, Narcissa. I have just heard some very interesting news and I wish to discuss it at home,” he said, already beginning to walk away. 

“But Father, I wanted a broom—“ 

“Now, Draco,” Lucius commanded without turning around. 

Draco looked at his mother, but she just shook her head slightly and took his hand. 

“Later, darling. Let’s go home,” she said, pulling the pouting Draco along in Lucius’ wake. *** 

Draco emerged last from the large marble fireplace. He immediately strode to the sofa and sat down with an exaggerated huff and a scowl. 

Lucius chuckled a bit as he poured drinks for himself and Narcissa. 

“Patience, Draco. I know you were going to ask me for a broom, and I will address that in a moment. However, first you must listen,” Lucius said. He crossed the room to stand next to Narcissa, who was sitting on the sofa opposite Draco, and handed her a glass of wine. 

“Today, I received information that Harry Potter will indeed be attending Hogwarts this year. The Boy Who Lived, attending Hogwarts at the same time as my son... it’s a wonderful opportunity, don’t you agree? It remains unclear whether he himself is a dark wizard with power greater than that of the Dark Lord, or if he is simply impossibly lucky. Regardless, he could be a great asset to this family.” 

Lucius picked up his cane, which had been leaning against the sofa, and walked toward the fireplace as he continued. 

“As you well know, after the Dark Lord disappeared so suddenly, there has remained some suspicion as to our involvement, and we are occasionally subject to Ministry scrutiny. At least, this is a chance to dispel the suspicion around the Malfoy name, and at best it’s a chance to revive the cause under a new and more powerful leader.” 

Lucius paused and placed his drink on the fireplace, then turned sharply to look at Draco. 

“Draco, you must get close to this boy as soon as possible. If he is a powerful dark wizard, you must convince him that Slytherin house is where he can realize his true potential. We don’t know what his upbringing was like, but if you were to befriend him and show him the advantages of a connection with the Malfoy family, surely it would influence his Sorting. With the boy in Slytherin, our access to him would be unimpeded and we can garner his favor. This is the task I am assigning you,” Lucius finished, punctuating his final sentence with a sharp tap of his cane on the marble floor. He picked up his glass and took a sip of his drink, then arched one pale-blonde eyebrow as he gazed at Draco, waiting for his response. 

Draco sat up. “What’s in it for me?” 

Lucius smirked. “If you do well, I will get you the best broom money can buy and send it to you at Hogwarts.” 

Narcissa smiled indulgently at Draco, “You’ll be the only first-year with a broom.” 

Draco grinned. “Consider it done.”


	2. Going to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of Hogwarts, and Harry and Draco meet again on the train where Draco tries to convince Harry to get sorted into Slytherin house...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 1st in real life, September 1st in this story! I actually did do that on purpose, but from here on out I cannot guarantee that there will always be that kind of date matching because it would take forever to get through the story.

“There you are, Harry.”  
  
Harry looked over at the now-open door to the compartment in which he and a boy he just met—Ron Weasley—were sitting. Draco and two large, mean-looking boys entered.  
  
“Been looking for you everywhere. Mind if I sit for a bit?”  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Draco sauntered over to plop into the seat next to Harry, propping his feet against the opposite seat cushion. He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle. They were both gaping at him; he rolled his eyes and indicated the seat across from him with his feet.  
  
“Well, sit down.”  
  
Goyle sat down farthest from Ron and Crabbe made to take the next seat, but Draco’s legs were blocking the way. Confused, he looked at Draco, but Draco only raised an eyebrow in response. After an awkward silence, Harry nudged Draco’s feet off the seat.  
  
“Oh, come off it already,” he said, sounding uncomfortable. Draco snorted and let Crabbe pass, then turned to face Harry.  
  
“I have something for you,” he said, holding out a wrapped package. “You don’t have to open it now, not much time since we’ll be arriving soon.”  
  
“Wow, thanks!” exclaimed Harry, taking the package and carefully putting it in his bag.  
  
Draco’s stomach growled, and he shot a glare at Crabbe and Goyle. “These two ate most of the snacks I bought from the trolley. Mind if I have some?” he asked indicating towards the leftover treats that were piled next to Harry, but Ron, who was now pressed up against the wall of the carriage by Crabbe’s bulk, responded first.  
  
“Who are you and what are you doing in our compartment?” Ron said, eyes narrowed.  
  
“Now, let’s see, you must be a Weasley. It’s the hair, impossible to miss, really. Anyways, I wasn’t talking you, I was asking my _friend_ , Harry,” Draco retorted.  
  
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut in.  
  
“Draco, this is Ron Weasley, Ron, this is Draco Malfoy, and yes, help yourself,” he said, directing the last statement towards Draco.  
  
Draco shrugged and grabbed a Licorice Wand. Crabbe and Goyle started stuffing their faces.  
  
“Malfoy? I know you! You have a lot of nerve coming in here considering that your family—“ Ron started.  
  
“Oh, do shut up, Weasley. I can’t stay long, and I have something to talk to Harry about. Unless Harry would prefer to join us in our compartment…”  
  
Ron huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, continuing to glare at Draco who was nibbling absently at the licorice.  
  
“Thanks, but I’m already pretty settled in here, and you said we should be getting off the train soon, so… Anyways, we were talking about Hogwarts earlier and all the different houses. Ron reckons he’d like to be in Gryffindor. What house do you think you’ll be in?” Harry asked.  
  
“Slytherin,” Draco responded without hesitation. “Everyone in my family has been in Slytherin for generations. It’s definitely the best house.”  
  
Ron snorted, “The best house? Every bad wizard you’ve ever heard of has come from Slytherin.”  
  
Draco smirked. “Maybe, but at least you’ve heard of them. More than I could say for most Gryffindors,” he replied. “I’m sure you’ll be in Slytherin, Harry, everyone says you must have incredibly powerful magic.”  
  
Harry shifted in his seat. “I don’t know, I’ve never done any magic before. At least, not on purpose.”  
  
“And anyways,” Ron interrupted, “he’ll probably be in Gryffindor, since he’s not an evil git like you.”  
  
Draco ignored him, focusing on Harry. “You know, most of the wizards from Slytherin go on to do great things. A lot of them end up working at the Ministry in high positions, making a difference, improving life for magical families. Don’t you want to do something like that?” he asked intently.  
  
“I guess so,” Harry replied, “I’ve never really thought about it, everything here is new to me.”  
  
“I can help you… as a friend, you know,” Draco said, and then he leaned toward Harry and added, “We could be in Slytherin together, then we could really be close friends. Housemates do everything together: they eat together, go to classes together, and they even share a dormitory. Wouldn’t that be great, Harry?”  
  
Harry looked into Draco’s eyes and his stomach gave a little flip. “Y-yeah, I-I suppose,” he managed to stammer, breaking eye contact to look down at his hands. Draco flashed him a smile then stood and pulled the door open.  
  
“Well, we must be off. Can’t been seen getting off the train with a Weasley, I have appearances to maintain, you know. See you at the castle,” he said, “Oh, and Harry, don’t forget, I'll be waiting for you at the Slytherin table. Crabbe, Goyle, move.”  
  
Harry watched the three boys leave the compartment and felt his stomach sink. _The Sorting…_  
  
“Dream on, Malfoy!” Ron shouted after them. “What a prat. Why’re you friends with him, anyways? My dad says his father’s an ex-Death Eater, you don’t want to be friends with that kind of person, do you?”  
  
“What’s a Death Eater?” Harry asked, ignoring Ron’s question. He wasn’t totally sure how he felt about Draco yet, but he had said they could be friends, and Harry didn’t want to abandon the first friend he’d ever made.  
  
“They’re You-Know-Who’s followers, they think purebloods should have special privileges and they hate muggles.”  
  
“Purebloods? Aren’t they old wizarding families?” Harry said, remembering his conversation with Draco in Madam Malkin’s.  
  
“Yeah, well, only people from all magic families. I guess I’m technically pureblood too, but my family doesn’t care for that nonsense. Some people call us blood traitors since my dad works with muggles. I guess don’t really know any muggles but—“  
  
*The door opened and a girl with bushy brown hair began to look around the carriage. “Excuse me, have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost his,” she said, trying to peek under the seats.*  
  
“Why doesn’t he come ask us then?” asked Ron, sounding annoyed to have been interrupted.  
  
“No, we haven’t. Sorry,” Harry replied.  
  
“Oh well, we’ll just have to keep looking. By the way, did you just say you don’t know any muggles? I find it fascinating how they were able to keep the magical community so well hidden all this time. You know, both of my parents are muggles, they were rather shocked when I got my letter, we’ve never had a witch in the family before, apparently. I hope I’m not too far behind all the others from magical families. Of course, I’ve read about it as much as I can and I think I should be able to perform a few of the easier spells. So, what kind of spells do you know?” she said, looking intently at Ron.  
  
* “Uh... well, my brother taught me this one spell to turn my rat, Scabbers, yellow. I guess I could try it…” Ron said a bit self-consciously.  
  
“Let’s see then,” Harry and the girl said simultaneously. They grinned at each other.  
  
“Okay, here goes. Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!” Ron incanted and waved his wand.  
  
Scabbers remained asleep on Ron’s lap, as grey as ever.  
  
“That’s not a _real_ spell, is it?” the girl said after a moment.  
  
“Stupid George, bet he knew that was a phony spell,” Ron muttered, his face turning red.  
  
“Anyways, hadn’t you better change into your robes? I’ve spoken to the conductor, and he says we’ll be arriving soon. You wouldn’t want to be late the first day of the term, would you?” she said, starting towards the door. Then, she turned back around. “Oh, I’m Hermione Granger, by the way. And you are?” *  
  
“That’s Ron, and I’m Harry,” Harry replied, “I guess we’ll see you in there.”  
  
Once Hermione left, Ron faced Harry and said, “Better get dressed, my mum would have my hide if I’m late the first day.”

***

As he got off the train, Draco surveyed the group of first-years, looking for Harry.  
  
“Four to a boat, ye hear?” Hagrid bellowed. “Climb on in, no more’n four per!”  
  
Draco spotted Harry climbing into a boat with Weasley, a bushy-haired girl, and a pudgy boy.  
  
_Great, that Weasley gets to ride with Harry and I have to ride with these two buffoons_ , Draco thought to himself. _I hope these boats are sturdy._  
  
The trip over the lake was uneventful. Upon landing, the first-years clambered gratefully off the boats and crowded around the giant doors to the castle. A stern-looking witch who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, ushered them through the Entrance Hall into a small empty chamber and began to explain the Sorting Ceremony. Draco searched the crowd for Harry, finally spotting him next to Weasley. There wasn’t time to go over to him, as McGonagall had returned and was now leading them toward the door and the Sorting. Draco crossed his fingers.

***

“My brothers say it’s a really painful test in front of the whole school. If you do really well, you get into Gryffindor, at least that’s what they said,” Ron whispered into Harry’s ear as everyone filed through the door. “I really hope we get into Gryffindor!”  
  
Harry felt like he was going to be sick to his stomach. He didn’t even know how to do magic, how could he pass a test in front of the whole school? He fidgeted and tried to ignore Ron’s whispers, afraid of getting even more nervous.  
  
His eyes snapped to the front when he heard Professor McGonagall call out, “Malfoy, Draco.” Draco walked up to the stool, appearing completely confident. *The hat had barely even settled on his head before crying out, “SLYTHERIN!”* Harry watched Draco smirk and saunter over to the table of cheering Slytherins.  
  
Ron snorted, “Of course he’s in Slytherin, the prat.”  
  
“Potter, Harry.”  
  
The room went silent then burst into frenzied whispers. Ron nudged Harry forward and everyone’s eyes went to him as he walked toward the hat. Draco caught his eye and surreptitiously patted the seat next to him, smiling slightly. Harry sat down, and the drooping hat immediately covered his eyes.  
  
*“An interesting challenge. And difficult, very difficult,” said a small voice in his ear. “So much talent, and power too, yes, and your mind’s not bad either. Loyal… brave… not a bad fit for Gryffindor, but a bit ambitious too, and a thirst to prove yourself…very difficult. Perhaps Slytherin…”*  
  
_I just want to be with my friends, please don’t make me choose_ , Harry thought.  
  
“Don’t want to choose? A bit reckless, I see, and self-sacrificing, no, no, that wouldn’t help you in Slytherin, well then, better be GRYFFINDOR!”  
  
The hat was lifted off his head, and he just caught a glimpse of Draco’s shocked face before his enthusiastic new housemates whisked him off to the Gryffindor table. Up at the staff table, Hagrid beamed at him and gave him a thumbs-up. Harry managed to smile back, but his face fell as he remembered Draco’s look of surprise. _Will it be hard to be friends if we’re in different houses?_  
  
“Weasley, Ron.”  
  
Ron looked a little green as he walked up to the hat. Harry crossed his fingers under the table. _Please let him be in Gryffindor._ A second later, the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” and Ron made his way toward their table, grinning triumphantly. Harry felt a pang of relief.  
  
Ron sank into the seat next to Harry. Albus Dumbledore stood to speak, but Harry’s gaze was focused on the back of Draco’s head.  
  
“Potatoes, Harry?” offered Percy, one of Ron’s older brothers, a Gryffindor prefect.  
  
The headmaster’s speech was over, apparently. Harry’s stomach grumbled. “Thanks,” said Harry, and he started to dig in to the feast. It was hard to keep feeling sad when there were so many housemates eager to talk to him. By the time he had finished eating, he had become fast friends with all the first-year Gryffindor boys.

***

After the feast, Draco saw Harry ascending the stairs and talking animatedly with the other Gryffindors. He felt a stab of jealousy course through him. Now, not only would he probably not get his broom, but also the only friend he’d made so far that he actually liked was in Gryffindor. _Of all the houses, it had to be Gryffindor._  
  
He looked back at Crabbe and Goyle who were following him down towards the dungeons and sighed. The Crabbes were family friends and Goyle’s father was a friend of Lucius’, but they were so thick, it was really dull to have them hanging around all the time. Draco shook his head, and looked back at the stairs, but Harry had already disappeared.  
  
That night in Gryffindor tower, Harry sat up reading the book he had gotten from Draco, _First Steps in Flying_. It was the first present he’d ever gotten from a friend besides Hagrid, and Hagrid was more of a… well, maybe a friend, but he had known Harry since he was a baby, so it was a different feeling. Anyways, the book had great moving illustrations of different flying techniques, and Harry stayed up quite late reading it cover to cover. Before drifting off to sleep, Harry decided he wanted to stay friends with Draco, and would try his best to make that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, though I know it's a bit slow to start. Please comment if there's something you'd like to see, or for any reason, really!  
> Also, I am looking for beta readers. I try to keep the grammar and spelling under control, but I really appreciate people helping point out plot holes, things they would like to see in the plot and character development, etc. Let me know if you're interested!!


	3. First Flying Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's father has decided Harry is more trouble than he's worth... how can they stay friends when Draco's family and both their houses are working against them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting on the first of the month and the fifteenth of the month, as promised.

_Dear Father,_

_You’ll be happy to hear that I was sorted into Slytherin House, of course, and the Malfoy name seems to carry weight here even for a first-year: everyone is very eager to please me. I promise, I tried my best to get Harry Potter into Slytherin, but the hat put him in Gryffindor. I’m sure that blood-traitor Weasley had something to do with it; he was with Potter on the train telling him all sorts of nonsense. Surely you still mean to get me that broom, though, a Nimbus 2000. I can hardly be held responsible for that Weasley boy ruining everything._

_Classes have been going well, they’re not really much of a challenge for someone with a pedigree like ours. Professor Snape seems to have taken a liking to me, and I already got perfect marks on my first potion. We are having flying lessons on Thursday. It’s with the Gryffindors, so maybe I’ll get a chance for a bit of payback on Weasley. If only I had a great broom, I could really show him._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

***

Draco was looking forward to flying lessons more than any other class, if only because he knew he could show off a bit to Harry. They hadn’t had a chance to speak since the Sorting, and the one time Draco had tried to go talk to him at the Gryffindor table, he had gotten strange looks from his fellow Slytherins. So he covered by pretending to bully Neville Longbottom, who was really too pitiful to be much fun to bully. Weasley jumped up, presumably to fight Draco, but Harry got up to hold Weasley back, and before Draco got a chance to get a word out, Professor McGonagall was there.

His father had written him a reply, instructing him to forget about Harry now, since being sorted into Gryffindor—not to mention associating with a Weasley—meant he must be soft and foolish, and could not be a powerful dark wizard. Lucius also said he didn’t want his son associating with “riff-raff” and “blood-traitors.” But Draco couldn’t just forget about Harry, he at least wanted another chance to talk to him away from their respective housemates. _And besides, Father didn’t get me that broom, so I don’t really have much incentive to listen to him, now do I?_

Out on the grounds, Draco stood with the other Slytherins, idly pretending to listen to Pansy Parkinson talk about something dull. Still, it was better than trying to talk to Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise Zabini was stretched out on the grass, blatantly ignoring Pansy’s chatter. He was a withdrawn sort of person and didn’t talk much, but from what Draco could surmise, he and Blaise both liked Potions, disliked listening to Pansy talk, and—if the décor around Blaise’s bed was any indication—they supported the same Quidditch team. Draco felt that this was almost enough to qualify as friends, but much to his chagrin, Blaise paid him little attention. Draco hadn’t been exaggerating in his letter to Lucius when he said people fawned over him—people in Slytherin did, at least—but Blaise was an exception. For some reason, being ignored made Draco want Blaise to notice him even more, but he hadn’t yet worked out a dignified way to draw his interest.

The Gryffindors finally showed up, closely followed by Madam Hooch, who had everyone line up and summon their brooms. Draco couldn’t suppress a snigger when Hermione Granger’s broom simply flopped over instead of flying to her hand. She was his only real competition in Potions, and he found her to be an obnoxious know-it-all, so he reveled in having an easy advantage this time. Harry had summoned and mounted his broom easily. Despite never having ridden a broom before, he looked like a natural. Draco was irritated when his own turn came and Madam Hooch corrected his grip loudly enough for the whole class to hear. He felt his face flush with embarrassment. _You’re on my list, you yellow-eyed wench._

Just as the class was about to start practicing actual flying, Longbottom shot up into the sky, clearly out-of-control, and then promptly fell off his broom and slammed to the ground. He was rushed off to the hospital wing, leaving the other students with only the dire warning that they would be expelled if they flew.

Draco thought this might be an excellent chance to talk to Harry, but he needed to get him away from the Gryffindors surrounding him first. That’s when he saw the Remembrall that Longbottom had dropped, glittering in the grass. An idea sprang into his mind. He snatched the small orb and jumped on his broom.

“Well, well, look what I’ve found. Longbottom’s dropped something. I ought to put it somewhere safe for him. Maybe… up a tree?” Draco said, arching an eyebrow at Harry, hoping he would take the bait. Draco had noticed Harry’s tendency to jump in to try and stop conflicts, and was counting on that this time too.

“Give it back, Malfoy, or I’ll hex you,” Ron said, taking out his wand. Draco just laughed. With that ratty, hand-me-down wand, there was no way Weasley could generate enough power to hex him at this distance. But, to be safe, Draco flew a little higher.

Harry stepped forward, broom in hand, “Give it here, Dr-uh… Malfoy,” he said.

Draco narrowed his eyes and replied, “If you want it, come and get it,” and proceeded to fly out of hearing distance of the others. As expected, Harry jumped on his broom and flew toward Draco. He was quite good, Draco noted, not at all like a first-time flyer. _Perhaps he read the book I got him already…_ Draco thought, fighting back a smile. Once Harry was within hearing range, Draco said quietly, “Harry, I’ve been looking for a chance to talk to you, but there have always been people around you.”

“You were trying to talk to me? It seemed like you just really enjoy bullying Neville. Sorry, I didn’t know. I’ve been wanting to talk to you too, but what with me being sorted into Gryffindor, I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to be friends...”

“Don’t be silly, you think I would abandon my first real friend just because--,” Draco broke off, blushing furiously. “Anyways, we can’t talk long, the others are watching and in case you haven’t noticed, friendship between Slytherins and Gryffindors isn’t exactly encouraged. Quick, make a dive towards me like you’re trying to take the Remembrall back. ”

Harry looked confused for a moment, but then lunged towards him, just barely avoiding knocking him off his broom. Some of the Gryffindors on the ground seemed to be cheering. “Oops, sorry about that. Yeah, I’ve noticed. Let’s meet somewhere tonight and talk.”

“How about the trophy room after everyone’s asleep? Around midnight? You know, you’re pretty good for someone who’s never ridden a broom before.”

“Thanks, that book was brilliant, by the way, I stayed up all night reading it. Okay, tonight at midnight. Now give me that so we can get back on the ground.”

Just as Draco was about to toss it over, a mischievous thought occurred to him. Why not see just how good a flyer Harry was? Draco smirked and said, “Okay, catch!” throwing it as hard as he could. Harry’s reaction was quick; he made a sharp turn and took off after it as Draco coasted back towards the waiting group of Slytherins.

The Remembrall soared through the air before losing momentum and rapidly descending toward the ground. Harry dove after it, gathering speed. He caught it and pulled up just a foot above the ground. Draco let out the breath he had been holding.

“HARRY POTTER!” shouted Professor McGonagall from across the grounds. Draco felt the blood drain from his face, had she seen them both flying? But McGonagall took only Harry into the castle with her, and Draco felt relieved and guilty at the same time. _No point in both of us getting in trouble if one can avoid it._ He felt the accusing glares of the Gryffindors on him the rest of the lesson. When the class was over and everyone was returning to the castle, Weasley stormed over to where Draco was walking with Crabbe and Goyle.

“If Harry gets expelled because of that stupid stunt you pulled—“ Weasley began. Crabbe and Goyle moved forward, cracking their knuckles and leering.

“Then I guess he’ll be on the first train back to London tomorrow morning, won’t he? More’s the pity,” Draco sneered. Actually, that was what Draco himself feared might happen. _No, I won’t let it. Surely Father has some sway. I’ll owl him immediately._

“Come on, you two, I have better things to do than talk to this blood-traitor,” said Draco as he walked away, leaving an angry, red-faced Weasley behind.

 

***

Harry could hardly believe it. He had thought he was going to be expelled, and instead he was made Seeker of the house Quidditch team. He wasn’t exactly clear on what a Seeker was yet or how to play Quidditch, but if his recent flying experiences were anything to go by, it would be fun. And Professor McGonagall told him his dad had played; somehow, he felt very proud of that fact. At dinner when he told Ron about making the house team, he had nearly spit out his steak-and-kidney pie.

*“No way! Seeker, as a first-year? You must be the youngest player in a century!”* he exclaimed after noisily swallowing his mouthful of food.

“Yeah, but keep it a secret, okay? Wood doesn’t want it out yet.”

Ron was apparently too overawed to speak, so both boys tucked in to their dinner. Fred and George Weasley stopped by to whisper congratulations to Harry. Everyone had high expectations for this year’s team. The first practice would be next week, and Harry was both nervous and excited to get started.

One of the school owls flew down, deposited a note in front of Harry, and took off again after snatching the crust from Harry’s plate.

The note read, _Are we still on for midnight at the trophy room?_

Harry looked across the room and saw Draco looking at him. He gave a slight nod and saw Draco’s faint smile in response.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, following Harry’s gaze to the Slytherin table and then looking down at the note in Harry’s hand.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said instinctively, trying to tuck the note away in his robes.

Ron lowered his voice, “Are you going to have a wizards duel with that git, Malfoy, for almost getting you expelled?”

“What’s a wizards duel?”

“It’s a sort of… fight, I guess, but with wands only, and you have a second, in case the main duelist dies…”

“Dies?” asked Harry.

“Well, it doesn’t happen very often anymore, s’been outlawed to duel to the death, but anyways, you’re not having a duel, are you?”

“No…” Harry trailed off.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, you shouldn’t sneak out alone to meet that prat at midnight. I don’t trust him,” said Ron, crossing his arms.

“Excuse me. I couldn’t help but overhear…” It was Hermione Granger. She’d already gained a reputation as a know-it-all, but Harry didn’t mind it so much as Ron did. She earned them a lot of house points, and Harry seemed to be constantly losing them in Snape’s class, so he thought it was a nice balance.

“Couldn’t help but overhear? Yeah, right.” Ron scowled at her, but she ignored him and turned to Harry.

“…and I think Ron is right,” she continued, eliciting a surprised noise from Ron. *”You _mustn’t_ go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you’ll lose Gryffindor if you’re caught, and you’re bound to be. It’s really very selfish of you.”*

 _On second thought, she is annoying_ , thought Harry before he replied, *“And it’s really none of your business.”*

Hermione scoffed and left the Great Hall in a huff. Ron sniggered.

“Well, I guess we’d better leave by 11:30 then, wouldn’t want to be late,” he said. Harry knew he was supposed to laugh, but his tone was serious when he said, “No, Ron, really, I have to go alone. I know you don’t trust him, but I do, he’s my friend.”

“I just don’t get it, how can you be friends with a Slytherin? They’re terrible, the lot of them, and Malfoy most of all!”

“If I had been sorted into Slytherin, would you have stopped talking to me?” asked Harry quietly.

“I—what? No, of course not, but you _weren’t_ sorted into Slytherin, so…” Ron trailed off.

“Look, as annoying as she is, Hermione is right, if I get caught we could get in trouble and lose a ton of house points. I don’t want you to get in trouble too and lose double the points,” Harry reasoned.

“I’m coming with you, mate, even if I only keep lookout,” said Ron. He gripped Harry’s shoulder, “and that’s final.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for beta readers, let me know if you're interested!


	4. Meeting at Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry agree to meet in secret, but it doesn't go as smoothly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost through writing the 8th chapter--going is a bit slow since I'm in the middle of writing my thesis and doctoral applications--and I'm thinking there will be about 12 chapters total in this story. Of course, there's not going to be only this one story in the series, it's hard to get to the good stuff when they're still preteens, so consider this a prequel to future Drarry-ness!

Draco lay awake in his bed, thinking about the letter he had written his father. As relieved as he was that Harry apparently hadn’t gotten expelled, since he was still at supper and looking quite chipper, Draco was nervous about what his father’s reaction would be. After all, in his last letter, Lucius had ordered Draco to stop associating with Harry. Draco had rarely defied his father, but the punishments had been harsh. Once, when Draco was no more than 6 years old, he was playing in the yard, chasing one of his father’s albino peacocks, which he had been strictly ordered not to disturb, and had accidentally stepped on its tail. A surprising number of feathers fell out leaving the bird bare-bottomed, and it would have been comical, but his father was furious; he wanted to put Draco in the dungeon, but Narcissa intervened, so Draco was confined to his room for the rest of the summer instead. A few years later, he had refused to eat dinner—escargot just didn’t appeal to him, and were more properly called _snails _, he had pointed out, and surely there was enough money in the coffers to provide a meal that didn’t look as if the house elf had collected it from the garden—so Lucius wouldn’t let him have anything but bread and water for a week. Although Narcissa snuck chocolates to him whenever she could, he still woke up with hunger pangs every night that week. Now, Draco wasn’t at home, but he had no doubt that Lucius would come up with some penalty.__  
  
It was really unlike him to do something so impulsive, and even more unlike him to beg for help, but he had panicked. He sent a second letter as soon as he knew Harry hadn’t been expelled, but he was sure his father wouldn’t just disregard the first one. Draco sighed. No use thinking about it now, he would know the consequences soon enough, and in the meantime, he had to go meet with Harry. The trophy room was all the way on the third floor, but Draco had chosen it because it was about halfway between Gryffindor tower and the Slytherin commonroom.  
  
Draco slid off his bed and walked to the door, taking care to cast a silencing charm on the squeaky handle before slipping out as quickly as possible. He smiled to himself; sneaking out was a bit of a thrill. He put up the hood of his robe: his hair would stand out even in pitch darkness and he didn’t fancy getting caught breaking curfew when he was already in trouble with his father.  
  
He heaved a sigh of relief upon reaching the trophy room. He had nearly stumbled upon Peeves, who had been moving the suits of armor to block Filch’s office door, but Draco managed to duck behind a pillar at the last moment. Just then, the Bloody Baron glided down the stairs into foyer in front of the Great Hall. Upon spotting him, Peeves gave a little squeak and bowed rapidly several times before disappearing. Draco found this strange, but then again, if he were caught red-handed by the Bloody Baron, he’d probably be scared silly too. Luckily for Draco, the Bloody Baron just kept on gliding past him towards the basement. Draco practically ran the rest of the way, but didn’t run into anyone else. Since he was a few minutes early, he settled into a dark corner to wait.  
  
***  
  
Somehow, Harry had ended up with a large entourage. First, he and Ron had run into Hermione, who had stayed up to try, once again, to discourage them. She nagged them continuously, even following them through the portrait of the Fat Lady. That is when they found Neville curled up on the floor in front of the entrance having forgotten the password again. Much to Harry and Ron’s amusement, the Fat Lady was off visiting another painting, so Hermione couldn’t get back into the commonroom. However, the unfortunate consequence was that both Hermione and Neville insisted on coming with them. All the arguing took a long time, so although they had intended to get there early, they ended up running late. When Harry entered the trophy room, it was dark and there was no sign of Draco.  
  
“Draco? Are you here?” Harry whispered, peering through the darkness. There was no response. Harry’s heart sank. “Draco?”  
  
“Where is he? Is he running late?” Hermione asked after a moment.  
  
“Me? Running late? I think that honor is due to you, Gryffindors, wouldn’t you say?” spoke a drawling voice from the corner.  
  
Ron jumped and Neville and Hermione squeaked in surprise.  
  
“What’s your problem, Malfoy? Skulking around like that,” said Ron, glowering towards the corner. Draco lit the lantern he had brought; its light cast deep shadows on the walls and trophy cases.  
  
“What’s with the entourage, Potter? This was supposed to be between you and me,” Draco said, casting a frosty glare in Harry’s direction.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t ask them to come with, I swear, we only ran into Neville and Hermione on our way out of the commonroom, and Ron… wanted to talk to you too,” Harry said quickly with a glance towards Ron.  
  
“I nev-“ Ron began, but broke off with an “oof” when Harry elbowed him in the side.  
  
“And what would I have to talk about with a Weasley? The merits of hand-me-down sweaters?”  
  
“Shut up, Malfoy!” yelled Ron, his fingers curling up into fists.  
  
“Shh, Ron, someone might hear!” whispered Hermione. But, it was too late. There was a loud pop and Peeves appeared above their heads.  
  
“Uh-oh, the naughty ickle firsties are out of bed!” he cackled, swooping towards Neville who promptly fell over in fright.  
  
“Leave us alone, Peeves, please,” said Harry urgently, in a hushed voice. Peeves responded by blowing a raspberry in his ear and singing, “Firsties, firsties, gonna get in trouble, knock the trophies over and it’ll be double!” he flew towards the trophy cases, opened them, and began to knock each trophy off individually, making as much noise as possible. This meeting was going even more awry than Harry could have imagined. He looked around at the others to see if they had any ideas to stop Peeves, but Hermione and Ron were busy covering their ears and Neville, who had become tangled in his robes, was still struggling to stand up. Draco, however, had moved towards the door and was about to slip out when Harry’s eyes met his.  
  
“Where are you going?” mouthed Harry over the din.  
  
Draco glanced once, longingly, at the door, and then stepped back into the room. He didn’t care about the others, but he couldn’t very well have Harry thinking him a coward. Now he had to think fast; the racket was sure to get Filch’s attention any minute.  
  
He spoke loudly into Harry’s ear, “Any ideas?”  
  
“No, there’s no one who can control Peeves, but if we run, he’s bound to follow us. Filch is going to hear any second, we’re trapped!”  
  
“No one who can control Peeves… That’s it!” said Draco triumphantly.  
  
He walked over to Peeves and caught the trophy he had tipped over before it hit the ground.  
  
“Hello, Peeves. Do you know whom I happened to pass by tonight on my way here? The Bloody Baron. He’s my house ghost, you know, we’ve gotten quite close, actually. I daresay he might take offense if I were to get in trouble for your mischief, but don’t take my word for it, we can ask him, I don’t think he’s gone far, shall I fetch him?” Draco said with a smirk on his face.  
  
Peeves’ eyes narrowed and with another pop he disappeared.  
  
“Well, that was a bit easier than I expected,” said Draco as he turned back to face the group of astonished Gryffindors.  
  
“That was brilliant,” said Harry, grinning. “How did you know Peeves is scared of the Bloody Baron?”  
  
“Isn’t everyone? Anyways, we shouldn’t stay here, Filch is bound to be on his way,” he replied. As he spoke this, Mrs. Norris mewled from the open doorway. “Oh hell. Run!” he said, snuffing his lantern and sprinting towards the door. He flew through it just ahead of Ron and the rest followed. He could hear footsteps coming up the stairs from the second floor, so he dashed down the opposite hall with the others close behind. They turned into the corridor at the end of the hall just as Filch appeared on the landing. They slowed, listening closely and trying to be as quiet as possible. Filch was talking to Mrs. Norris.  
  
“Where are they, my sweet? Peeves said students were destroying the trophy room, they must be close,” he said, peering in at the pile of dented trophies. He mumbled a string of curses under his breath and walked into the room.  
  
Mrs. Norris mewled and looked toward the corridor. The five students tiptoed towards the other end of the corridor. Draco had not been down this way before, but he was hoping there were stairs. It was very dark and he couldn’t risk lighting his lantern again. He felt someone tug on his robes and turned to see Harry pointing to a door in front of them. They had reached the end. Draco reached out and tried to pull the door open, but it wouldn’t budge.  
  
“It's locked,” he whispered. He thought he could hear Mrs. Norris’s meow a bit closer than the last time. In the back of his mind, he was already sorting through excuses he could use to push the blame on Weasley. _Drugged with a sleeping potion? No, it’s not believable; Weasley could never make an effective sleeping draught… Ambushed on the way to the hospital wing? That might work, but Filch might ask Professor Snape about it and that would mean more trouble for me… ___  
  
Hermione shoved him aside, interrupting his train of thought. “Honestly, did you forget that we attend a school for magic?” she asked imperiously, pointing her wand at the door. “ _Alohamora _.” The lock unlatched. At that moment, they all heard Filch say, “Down this way, are they? We’ve got them now!”__  
  
Draco pulled at the handle and they all quickly jumped inside, closing the door softly behind them and locking it. Draco and Harry pressed their ears against it, listening for Filch. They couldn’t hear much through the thick wood of the door, but everyone remained silent for a few minutes. Harry finally heaved a sigh.  
  
“I think we’re okay, but maybe we ought to wait a bit before we go back out,” said Harry.  
  
“Peeves! I’ll make him pay for this, mark my words,” Draco muttered darkly.  
  
“This is why I told you not to go sneaking around at night, Harry! And Draco, why would you do something so reckless? What do you two have to talk about anyways?” asked Hermione, hands on her hips.  
  
“That’s none of your business,” Draco and Harry replied simultaneously.  
  
“I get dragged all around the castle—“ Hermione started.  
  
“You didn’t get dragged, you insisted on coming,” Ron pointed out, but Hermione ignored him.  
  
“Risk getting in trouble, AND save us from getting caught, and you say it’s none of my business?” she finished. The pitch of her voice rose gradually, “I’m only trying to help keep you out of trouble! You’re really just, just… cruel!” She started to cry. Harry and Draco both looked at each other, utterly at a loss. They looked at Ron who just shrugged and went over to pat her shoulder awkwardly. Harry started mumbling something like an apology.  
  
Neville looked mildly frightened by this entire interaction. “I, uh, I think I’ll just check if there’s another way out,” he said, turning away. “Oof!”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “Really, Longbottom, is it that hard to walk across a flat surface?”  
  
“It’s not a flat surface, there’s something here, I just can’t see, it’s too dark,” he replied from the floor. Draco lit his lantern and held it up. His eyes widened, taking in the monster before him. One of its heads—the one Neville had tripped over—was blinking the sleep from its eyes and the other two heads’ noses began to twitch.  
  
“Harry,” Draco whispered urgently.  
  
“Why are you whispering? Filch is probably gon—“ began Harry. The first head started to emit a low growl and Neville scrambled to get away from it. “Open the door,” Harry said in a careful voice, “Take Ron and Hermione out, I’ll get Neville.”  
  
Draco backed towards the door, keeping his eye on the three-headed dog. The other two heads appeared to be waking up, so they didn’t have a lot of time. He unlocked and pulled open the latch and dragged Hermione and Ron, who had been gaping at the three-headed dog, out by their robes.  
  
“Get out, now, Harry, run!” he pleaded urgently. Neville was finally standing and backing towards Harry, but all three heads were now growling menacingly. One lunged towards Neville and he almost tripped but Harry caught him and they broke into a sprint towards the door. When they were almost through, the dog, fangs bared, made another lunge, but Draco threw his lantern at the central head, hitting it square in the nose. The dog yelped in pain, and thrashed about the room, smashing the now-extinguished lantern. This distracted it long enough for Harry to launch himself through the door, pulling Neville along by the hand, and close it behind them. They leaned back against it, panting.  
  
“Bloody hell,” Ron exclaimed.  
  
Draco looked over and noticed Harry still holding Neville’s hand. He scowled.  
  
“I need a word, Harry,” he said, “Alone.”  
  
“No way, Malfoy, you can say whatever you have to say in front of all of us, right, Harry?” Ron said, arms crossed.  
  
“We’ll just be a few minutes, okay? Filch is gone anyway, so just wait here,” Harry said, dropping Neville’s hand and following Draco down the corridor. When they were out of hearing range, Draco whirled to face Harry.  
  
“So, do you trust me now? Now that I helped save your life, you don’t need a bodyguard?” Draco asked angrily.  
  
“What are you talking about, I’ve always trusted you. I told you, I didn’t ask them to come!” Harry responded hotly.  
  
Draco scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’m not dense enough to believe that Weasley came along because he wanted to _talk _to me, Harry,” he responded.__  
  
“Okay, fine, Ron doesn’t trust you, but he saw your owl and he insisted on coming. I didn’t come here to fight, alright, I just wanted to… talk,” Harry finished. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and shrugged. “You’re the first friend I’ve ever made and I… I was hoping to figure out how to stay friends.”  
  
Draco’s expression softened. “Well, I don’t know how easy or hard this will be, but if you want to try… Right then, let’s make a strategy.”  
  
Making a strategy for a secret friendship was harder than they thought. Draco didn’t tell Harry about his father’s original plan, but only told him that his father didn’t want him associating with Harry. Draco also told him about Crabbe and Goyle and the likelihood that they would tell Draco’s father if they saw him meeting Harry. But Harry didn’t seem to care about any of these things. He argued persistently that secrecy was unnecessary and that they should be friends openly.  
  
“Otherwise, when will we get to see each other? We can’t always sneak around like this, we’re bound to get caught sometime,” said Harry.  
  
Draco was trying not to get cross with him. “Harry, you have no idea what my father is like. I’m already going to be in enough trouble as it is for the letter I sent him earlier trying to save _you _from being expelled!”__  
  
“What letter? Expelled… was this after the flying lesson?”  
  
Draco felt a blush creep up his neck. “It’s not your concern! Anyway, my father cannot know about this, we have to be discrete. How about this? I’ll go the library—Crabbe and Goyle never follow me there, I don’t even think they can read—each week on Tuesday, and I will hide a note with where and what time to meet the following day in a book. The rest of the time, we keep pretending to be enemies.”  
  
“This is ridiculous. I don’t want to pretend to be your enemy, and you still haven’t told me what that letter is all about!”  
  
Draco didn’t reply, but just crossed his arms, raised one eyebrow, and stared at Harry, who, after a few moments of this, threw up his hands and said, “Fine! What book then?”  
  
Draco thought about it for a second, and then snapped his fingers. “Perfect. There’s this really huge old book that’s really musty and I’m sure no one ever reads it, it’s called _Ancient Achievements in Wizardry _. It’s about mid-way down the aisle in the fifth row on the left. And don’t go telling Weasley, or Longbottom, or Granger about this either. The less people who know, the better.”__  
  
“Draco, what are they going to think, we spent the past several minutes chatting about becoming enemies? You’re being ridiculous.”  
  
“They don’t have to think we’re enemies, they just can’t know about the meetings. If you have to tell them something, just tell them the friendship might not work out because you don’t know when or if we will be able to meet again.”  
  
“But that’s a lie!”  
  
“It’s not a lie at all, I haven’t told you exactly when we’re meeting next, so you really can’t be sure when or if we will meet again,” Draco said a bit smugly.  
  
Harry shook his head. He didn’t like it, but if this way the only way to stay friends, then he would go along with it until he figured out another way. “Fine, you’d better go before someone else comes along; I’ll go back with the others.”  
  
“Until next week then, Harry,” Draco waved and followed the path back to the dungeons. He spoke the password and entered the commonroom.  
  
“Where have you been this evening, Draco?” a quiet voice spoke from the sofas near the fireplace. Draco froze. He took a breath and fixed a sneer on his face before turning around to face whoever had spoke.  
  
“And who are you to be asking about my whereabouts?” he asked as he turned. His eyes landed on the smirking face of Blaise Zabini, who was stretched out on the sofa.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not planning on getting you into trouble. It’s just that I’ve been so terribly bored since coming here, and it seemed like something interesting was finally happening.”  
  
“Not really, just fancied a bit of a walk is all,” Draco responded. He didn’t trust Blaise, or anybody for that matter, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell him about tonight’s meeting.  
  
“A walk. Right...” said Blaise, clearly unconvinced. He looked at Draco for a few moments and finally shrugged. “Well, I guess we’d better go back to bed then. And if those two gorillas of yours haven’t stopped snoring, I will stuff socks in their mouths,” he said as he got up and strode towards the first year dormitory.  
  
“Then I hope they’re still snoring,” replied Draco as he followed Blaise back to their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for beta readers, btw...


	5. Payback on Peeves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco recruits Blaise for a bit of payback on Peeves the Poltergeist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a day late with this one, I had a conference out-of-town, and a whole lot of driving to get there!

The next morning, Harry, Ron, and Neville sat eating breakfast together, talking about their accidental adventure. Hermione, who had been ignoring them since they had gone back to the commonroom the night before, sat on the other side of the table with her nose in a book.  
  
“You saved my life, really Harry, I would have been done for!” Neville said, patting Harry on the shoulder.  
  
“Nah, don’t mention it. But I wonder how they got such a huge dog in that small room,” said Harry, smiling.  
  
“Really, though, isn’t is a bit dangerous to keep a gigantic, three-headed dog in the castle? It’s not much of a pet, is it? And why’s it in the third floor corridor?” Ron asked.  
  
Hermione snapped her book shut and said, *“You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you? Of course it’s not a pet, it’s a guard dog, it was standing on a trapdoor!”  
  
  
“A trapdoor? But what could it be guarding?” asked Ron around a mouthful of eggs. Although he remained quiet, Harry suddenly recalled the Daily Prophet article about the break in at Gringott’s he had read when he had visited Hagrid the week before.  
  
“I haven’t the slightest idea, and I don’t intend to find out. Now, I’m going to go to class before one of you comes up with another great idea to get us killed—or worse, expelled.* And you’d best get a move on too or you’ll be late,” Hermione said before collecting her books and walking out with her nose in the air.  
  
*“She needs to get her priorities straight,”* mumbled Ron as he rushed to finish his breakfast.  
  
“As much as I hate it when she’s right, we’d better hurry. I don’t fancy a lecture from McGonagall for being late,” said Harry as he picked up his bag. Ron grabbed a piece of toast and the two boys headed for class. But Harry wasn’t actually worried about being late, he wanted to talk to Ron in private about a new theory he had about what the three-headed dog could be hiding, and didn’t want the other students at the table to eavesdrop.  
  
“Wait for me!” Neville pleaded as he tried to rush after them. He had only taken a few steps when he collided with Oliver Wood, who had just stood up to leave as well.  
  
“Steady on!” said Wood, reaching out to steady Neville before he fell.  
  
“S-s-sorry,” stammered Neville.  
  
“’S alright. On with you then,” said Wood, an amused smile tugging at his lips.  
  
Neville glanced up once before running after Harry and Ron.

***

At the Slytherin table, Draco sighed. He had been watching Harry and Ron and feeling himself become more envious by the minute. _If Harry had been in Slytherin, we could have been like that _, he thought to himself morosely. He pushed his plate, upon which were an unfinished scone and some scrambled eggs, away from him and scowled at it as if his breakfast was somehow responsible for Harry being in Gryffindor.__  
  
“Something got you down, Draco?” asked Blaise, his eyes sliding pointedly from Draco to the Gryffindor table.  
  
“Anyone would feel depressed watching Longbottom make such an unbearable fool out of himself so frequently,” Draco drawled in reply. Blaise just made a dissatisfied noise and went back to eating his breakfast.  
  
_Just a few more days _, Draco thought to himself._ Ugh, days of hanging around with Crabbe and Goyle… I might die of boredom and have to meet Harry as one of the Hogwarts ghosts by then…_ An idea struck him. An idea that could possibly kill two birds with one stone if he played it right.  
  
Draco snuck a glance at Blaise who now had his left elbow on the table to resting his cheek against his hand. He was pushing food around his plate with his fork, obviously bored.  
  
“Blaise,” Draco said quietly. “I was wondering…”  
  
Blaise didn’t turn his head to look at Draco nor stop playing with his food, but merely looked at him from the corner of his eyes. Draco was irritated not to have his full attention, it was not something he was used to, but he was also a bit pleased that Blaise had acknowledged him, albeit in a very small way.  
  
“I’m thinking of doing something interesting this evening, are you in?” Draco said, hiding his nerves under a mask of indifference.  
  
Though Blaise still didn’t turn his head, Draco saw him flash a grin at his plate. “That depends on what you have in mind,” he replied, still pushing his food around.  
  
“I’m in the mood for a little payback,” Draco replied cryptically.  
  
Blaise finally set his fork down and looked at Draco. “I don’t even care that your answer is disturbingly vague, I’d rather do anything than sit in the commonroom listening to Pansy blather on and on. I’m in.”

***

Later that evening in the Slytherin commonroom, Draco was explaining his plan to Blaise.  
  
“So then we put the suit of armor in front of Filch’s room so that he trips over it when he comes out to look for that cat,” Draco said.  
  
“But how are we going to convince Filch that Peeves did it? It’s not like we can just stand there and say, ‘Oh, don’t mind us, we were just admiring your door and happened to notice Peeves putting a suit of armor in front of it?’ Aside from being obviously guilty, we would be out after curfew,” Blaise said skeptically.  
  
“Filch hates Peeves, he will believe anything if he thinks it might get Peeves in trouble, and it being after curfew should take suspicion off the students,” Draco replied with a wave of his hand. “The trick will be to get the Bloody Baron involved, Peeves is terrified of him.”  
  
“How do you know that?” asked Blaise, a spark of suspicion in his eyes.  
  
“Everyone is afraid of the Bloody Baron,” hedged Draco for the second time in two days. Unfortunately, Blaise didn’t seem as gullible as the Gryffindor lot and he still seemed suspicious, but he said nothing. Draco chose to ignore this and plowed on, “Anyways, the suit of armor is a bit too heavy to carry on my own, and I will need a way to catch the cat. I can put a silencing charm on it, I’ve gotten quite good at those, but we will have to figure out how to lure it away from Filch. Any ideas?”  
  
Blaise thought for a moment, apparently having forgotten his suspicions, and then said, “I think I know a way to lure her out. Once I’ve gotten her to come towards us, you’ll need to hit her with the body-bind and silencing charms quickly before she alerts Filch though.”  
  
“No problem,” Draco said, crossing his arms with a smug expression on his face. “My father had me practice on one of our house elves when I got my wand this summer. This should be easy.”

***

That night, Draco and Blaise waited until they could hear the steady roar of Crabbe and Goyle’s snores before sneaking out the door. There were still older students studying in the Slytherin commonroom, but it seemed to have been practically made for people to sneak about, as there were ample shadows and dark corners through which one could pass unseen. Draco had taken note of these spots the previous night, and had planned to have Blaise follow his lead, but when they had discussed it, Blaise had suggested that he should go first.  
  
“I should go first. No offense, but you are so white you could be mistaken for a ghost, it would be ridiculously easy to spot you in the dark,” he said. “You’ll have to keep your hood up.”  
  
“I’m not an idiot, of course I’ll keep my hood up, that’s what I did last night,” Draco snapped. “On my walk,” he added as an afterthought. Blaise raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Well, it’s not very easy to see with your hood up, is it? And I don’t glow like a unicorn in the dark, so I don’t need a hood. So, I should go first,” Blaise argued.  
  
Draco glared at him for a minute, irritated by the logicality of Blaise’s argument, but couldn’t find any way to argue the point, so he gave a slightly stiff shrug and started filling Blaise in on the darkest spots in the commonroom.  
  
Amazingly, they made it through the commonroom and into the corridor without any issues. They reached the suit of armor nearest Filch’s office. Draco had examined the suits closely and saw that they could be taken apart relatively easily so that they could carry each part individually. After Draco cast a quieting charm on the suit, they each took an arm and carried it to a spot in the shadows next to Filch’s door. Just as Draco was about to step back out into the corridor to get more of the suit, Blaise pulled him back by his robes and hissed, “Wait.”  
  
Then, Draco saw the Hufflepuff ghost float by and stop in front of the statue.  
  
“Now, isn’t that odd?” said the Fat Friar, looking at the currently arm-less suit. He seemed to ponder a moment. “Oh well, probably just Peeves at it again, I won’t bother with it,” he mumbled and then continued on down the corridor. Draco let out a breath of relief and whispered, “I told you everyone would think it’s Peeves.”  
  
“Yes, well let’s get a move on, who knows who might show up next,” Blaise whispered back, setting to work on removing the head. Once they dissembled all the parts and laid them together near the door, Blaise turned to Draco.  
  
“Okay, have your wand ready, I don’t think it will take Mrs. Norris long to come out once I cast the spell,” Blaise whispered.  
  
“You never told me what spell,” Draco whispered, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards the cat door carved into Filch’s door.  
  
Instead of responding, Blaise spoke “ _Avis _,” and several very colorful birds appeared and began to chirp and fly about near Blaise.__  
  
“When did you learn that spell? I haven’t seen it in any of this year’s textbooks!” Draco whispered, sounding almost accusatory.  
  
“You’re not the only one whose parents taught them a bit of magic this summer. It may not be the most practical spell, but my mother is fond of beautiful things,” Blaise replied, a note of fondness in his voice. He held out his hand and a small blue and yellow bird landed on it and chirping softly. “Draco,” he whispered urgently, startling the bird off his hand as he indicated towards the door.  
  
Draco’s head whipped around and he spotted Mrs. Norris coming out from the cat door and trotting towards them, her eyes focused on the birds. “ _Silencio! _” he whispered before she could get out a noise. She then appeared to notice the two boys and quickly turned around, probably to get Filch. “_ Petrificus totalus!_” he incanted, but the cat darted forward and he missed. “Petrificus totalus!” he quickly fired off the spell a second time, and this time his aim was true. The cat froze in place just inches from the door.  
  
“That was close,” whispered Blaise. He banished the birds with a quick spell as Draco crept over to pick up Mrs. Norris, placing her carefully out of the way. The two boys made quick work of reassembling the armor, only this time arranging it to lie on its side as close to the door as possible. Draco put Mrs. Norris gently into the belly of the armor, and then stepped back to let Blaise secure the head to complete the reassembly.  
  
“Well, that’s done then, but you never told me how we get the Bloody Baron to come here,” Blaise whispered from where he was leaning against the wall.  
  
Draco checked the watch his mother had given him for his birthday. It was silver with emerald and abalone inlay, and it had his initials engraved on the back. It was a little after a quarter ‘til midnight, which was about the time he had seen the Baron yesterday night. “He should be here in about five minutes,” he responded, “so we should lift the spell in a couple minutes and then get a bit of a ways away.”  
  
Draco wasn’t at all sure the Bloody Baron would even pass through this way again tonight, but it seemed likely to him that ghosts were creatures of habit, after all, Professor Binns had been teaching History of Magic for Merlin knows how long, so he was counting on that to complete his plan.  
  
After a couple minutes passed, Draco tugged on Blaise’s sleeve and the two boys slipped through the shadows as far as they could go within spell range. Draco muttered the counter-curses and Mrs. Norris started yowling and thrashing about in the suit of armor immediately. Draco and Blaise slipped further back, but not quite so far that they couldn’t see the door. The door handle turned and the door flew open.  
  
“Mrs. Norris!” yelled Filch as he tried to dash out the door. He immediately tripped over the suit of armor, eliciting a startled screech from Mrs. Norris and a string of curses from Filch. Draco bit back a laugh and felt Blaise’s shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter next to him.  
  
“PEEVES!” Filch bellowed as he scrambled his feet and spun around, looking for the source of his cat’s yowling. His eyes fell on the suit of armor and he rushed to get Mrs. Norris out. At that moment, the Bloody Baron came drifting eerily down the stairs as he had the night before. Filch spotted him and called out.  
  
“Bloody Baron, sir, look at what Peeves has done this time! He has gone too far! Locking my precious Mrs. Norris up inside this armor. She could have been seriously injured! He needs to be punished for this or he’ll get even more out of control,” Filch demanded.  
  
“I will speak with him,” the Baron said. He seemed about to drift away when a sudden pop and loud cackling announced the arrival of Peeves, who had undoubtedly been drawn by the commotion. This was more than Draco could have hoped for, and he almost cackled with glee himself. Peeves, on the other hand, had stopped cackling immediately upon seeing the Bloody Baron, and if he weren’t a poltergeist, Draco was sure Peeve’s face would have turned quite white.  
  
“Pardon me, sir, Bloody Baron, sir. I was just…” Peeves began nervously, looking about to bolt away.  
  
“Back to the scene of the crime, eh?!” shouted Filch, clutching Mrs. Norris to his chest. “What did I tell you? It was him, it was!”  
  
“Peeves,” the Bloody Baron spoke. “Do not hurt this cat,” he said, indicating towards where Filch was still clutching Mrs. Norris.  
  
“I didn’t--I would never, sir,” Peeves stammered.  
  
“Liar! I know it was you, Peeves. And I will catch you at it someday, mark my words!” Filch spat before stamping back into his office and slamming the door.  
  
“Reassemble this armor before you leave, Peeves, to pay for your action,” said the Baron. He then started drifting towards the dungeon corridor and Draco and Blaise shrunk back into the shadows. Peeves began to reassemble the suit of armor, mumbling fiercely under his breath as he did so.  
  
Figuring they had seen enough, Draco tugged on Blaise’s sleeve and tilted his head to indicate that they should go. As he did so, Draco’s hood slipped a little, exposing some of his hair for just a second before he tugged the hood back up. He hoped Peeves hadn’t seen, but didn’t dare turn back. He and Blaise rushed back to the commonroom, and both leaned back against the stone wall in relief once they were through.  
  
Draco’s heart was still pounding when Blaise said breathlessly, “That was great!”  
  
“I suppose you don’t think I’m boring then,” Draco drawled.  
  
“Maybe less than I thought,” Blaise admitted.  
  
Though he forced his face into an impassive expression, Draco was thrilled. It seemed he wouldn’t have to spend every week bored by Crabbe and Goyle until he could meet up with Harry.  
  
The two boys sat up for a little while longer, recalling the scene and having a proper laugh.  
  
“But you never did tell me what all this was payback for,” Blaise said.  
  
“Does it matter?” Draco hedged. Even though he was pretty sure they were friends now, he still didn’t fully trust Blaise.  
  
“Fine, don’t tell me. But I think he might have seen you, you know, when your hood slipped down. This might just be the beginning of a never ending war for you.”  
  
“I’m a Malfoy, there’s no way some poltergeist is going to get the better of me,” Draco replied confidently.  
  
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m going to turn in. Goodnight, Draco,” said Blaise as he stood and walked towards the dormitory.  
  
“Goodnight, Blaise,” Draco replied softly. After dashing off a quick letter to his mother and throwing it in his school bag to send the next day, Draco climbed into bed. It was a moment before he realized that he could not hear Crabbe and Goyle’s snoring. It had completely ceased. _Almost as if someone hit them with a silencing charm… ___  
  
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” Draco mumbled. He heard Blaise chuckle softly in response. For the first time since he had arrived at Hogwarts, he fell asleep to the quiet swishing of the water from the lake against the windows.


	6. Secret Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco have their first secret meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a nice Halloween!

After pulling off his revenge scheme, Draco had been extremely pleased with himself, but that was short-lived. Whether Peeves had seen the flash of white from Draco’s hair or remembered him from the night before last, it didn’t take him long to figure out who had set him up, and he seemed hell-bent on repaying the favor tenfold. He had taken to following Draco around between classes, suddenly appearing in front of his face, blowing raspberries in his ears and throwing bread at the back of his head at meals. This appeared to greatly amuse the Weasley twins, and they occasionally passed Peeves bread from their own plates, which infuriated Draco even further.

After class on Tuesday, Peeves dropped a bucket from the second floor, clearly intending it to land on Draco’s head, but Blaise pulled Draco back by his robes just in time. Crabbe and Goyle were walking slightly behind, but stopped when they heard the crash and looked around in confusion. Peeves darted away, cackling.

“Would you get mad if I said, ‘I told you so?’” Blake said with a smirk.

“Yes,” Draco said shortly, jerking his robes back into place. “That bloody poltergeist is getting on my last nerve. I think it’s time for a little more payback.”

“Because that worked so well the last time,” Blaise replied, rolling his eyes slightly. Draco bit back a retort; he had learned over the past several days that Blaise could match him fairly well in sarcastic remarks, and he wasn’t in the mood to get into it at the moment.

“I’m going to the library to look up some spells, see you later,” Draco said, dismissing the three boys with a wave of his hand. He could work on his plan to get back at Peeves later, but today was finally Tuesday, and he had to figure out where and when to meet Harry tomorrow.

Draco enjoyed reading, and as a child he had always preferred to read a good book over playing with Crabbe or one of the other pureblood children his parents invited for play dates. So, he felt quite at home in the library. Although the library at Malfoy Manor was quite extensive, Hogwarts’ collection was much more so. Before coming to Hogwarts, Draco’s mother had specifically instructed him to take advantage of this while in school. Though his mother had never had a job, she was quite adept in Herbology and was often in the greenhouse or the garden tending a variety of exotic magical plants. She credited this interest to the Hogwarts library rather than her Herbology class; the teacher was a Muggle-born, so Narcissa often skipped and went to the library instead. Draco’s father, on the other hand, had suggested that Draco should spend his time practicing _using_ spells rather than reading about them. Draco had assured them that he would do both, and with that in mind, he pulled several books including, _Semi-Corporeal Pests and How to Eliminate Them_ and _Practical Guide to Offensive Curses for Ghosts, Ghouls, and Other Apparitions_. Before he sat down at a solitary desk, Draco also pulled out _Ancient Achievements in Wizardry_. He could read until the library cleared out a bit so as not to attract suspicion returning the huge old tome too soon.

Before he got into reading, he pulled out a piece of parchment and quickly scribbled, “Tomorrow night, 8 o’clock, Classroom 11 (off the corridor across from the Great Hall).” He did a quick check to see if anyone was watching before placing the parchment under the front cover and setting the book aside.

After a couple of hours collecting information about Peeves’ potential weaknesses and writing down spells he might use against him, Draco gathered the books and re-shelved them, taking extra care not to dislodge the note he had left for Harry as he slid _Ancient Achievements in Wizardry_ into place on the shelf. As he was pulling his hand away, Draco spotted a book entitled _A History of Magical Inventions_ and pulled it from the shelf. It had chapters on all the greatest inventions from the first broomstick to the Floo system, and a number of less significant ones like self-clasping necklaces and Magiclean Pans (pans that never needed to be washed). He found himself rather intrigued and decided to check the book out. Besides, it gave him a more credible reason to return to the library next week to leave the next note for Harry.

As he walked to the Slytherin commonroom, Draco was both happy and nervous. He had never had to really work at making friends before Hogwarts, although he supposed he didn’t have any real friends, as he considered Crabbe more of an irritating hanger-on than a friend and Goyle more ape than human. Draco and Blaise had every class together, and a similar sense of sarcastic humor, so once the ice had been broken, it wasn’t hard to talk with him. But it was different with Harry… Draco had no idea what they would talk about, only that he wanted to talk. Draco only hoped that Harry felt the same.

***

Harry was excited and a little nervous when he went to the library that evening. He wasn’t totally confident that there would be a note for him. After all, it had been a whole week; Draco might not have changed his mind or just forgot altogether. Harry’s shoulders slumped forward. _I really wanted to talk to him about quidditch, I didn’t even tell him I made the house team yet._

Harry searched the shelves for _Ancient Achievements in Wizardry_. It took him a while to find it, but at last he located the large, old tome. He recognized it from Draco’s description and vaguely wondered if Draco had read it. He flipped the front cover open and was delighted to find a note. He read it quickly then slipped it into his pocket. He wouldn’t have quidditch practice at 8p.m., it would already be too dark to see the snitch, so the timing was perfect. Harry replaced the book on the shelf, then took a quick glance around, having forgotten that he was supposed to be discrete. Thankfully, nobody appeared to have noticed him.

As he walked to the Gryffindor commonroom, Harry was excited and nervous about tomorrow. He had had so many new experiences that he wanted to talk to Draco about, and he still had so many questions. He could ask Ron, of course, but Ron didn’t seem to be able to answer a lot of Harry’s questions about the wizarding world with anything but vague mumbles. It was fun hanging out with Ron, and Harry considered him his best friend, but Draco was… different. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt like Draco understood him better.

Before climbing into bed, Harry grabbed _Firsts in Flying_ to read the chapter on dives. He had experienced one himself, and it had been quite an adrenaline rush, but he got the feeling he had only escaped serious injury by a hair. He didn’t have much practice, so he had acted mostly on instinct, but this had brought him closer to the ground than he had expected to get so quickly. If not for the book, Harry would never have been able to execute the pull out from the dive as accurately as he did, and would have ended up with some broken bones, and possibly an expulsion from school. So in a way, Draco had saved Harry’s skin, and that was not something Harry would forget anytime soon. A few minutes later, Harry was asleep, his glasses slightly askew and his book resting on his chest.

***

Wednesday afternoon, Draco and Harry were sitting in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. They weren’t sitting together, of course, they were as far apart as they could get. After getting suspicious looks from Blaise several times during meals when Draco’s gaze would often accidentally drift to Harry, Draco was trying to avoid sitting where he could see Harry from now on. He was getting more nervous about their meeting tonight before Astronomy class, so to take his mind off it, he had started drafting his plan for revenge on Peeves. Quirrell was just stammering about defensive spells anyways. It was almost painful to try to listen, and Draco had read about all the spells anyways, so no point in wasting time listening to a fool who had an obviously skewed sense of fashion and some kind of self-confidence issue.

Harry was quite disappointed with his DADA class. It had seemed so interesting when he was reading about it, but he could barely understand what Professor Quirrell was saying his stutter was so bad. Ron was doodling on some spare parchment, Neville appeared to be falling asleep, and Hermione was, as usual, taking extensive notes. Harry, on the other hand, was just daydreaming. He had been told this morning that they were supposed to have their first quidditch practice next week. Wood had wanted to start earlier, but for some reason, Professor McGonagall had asked him to postpone practices involving flying for the time being. Harry would meet with him a couple times before practice to get a run down on the rules and get his Gryffindor quidditch robes measured and tailored.

He and Ron had been talking about what could be under that trapdoor, and Harry was pretty sure it had something to do with the package Hagrid had picked up from Gringotts, but they agreed that the only way to know for sure would be to ask. They decided to go to visit Hagrid after Potions on Friday. Harry wondered if he should tell Draco about it since he had been with them at the third floor corridor, but even if he told him, they were pretending to be enemies, so it wasn’t like Draco could come along with them. Harry let out a sigh. This enemies act was getting old, and they had only been in school a few weeks. How long was he going to have to keep this up?

***

It was finally 8 o’clock and Draco was standing in the shadows at the side of the room, waiting for Harry to show up. It wasn’t after curfew, but it would still be awfully suspicious for a first year to be hanging around by himself in an abandoned classroom. After a few minutes, he started to tap his finger against his arm, and after a few more minutes, he gave up hiding in the shadows and started pacing before he remembered what his father said, “Pacing is for fools who are impatient to die.” While Draco didn’t think anyone would be killing him at this precise moment, he didn’t want to expose his anxiety so openly to Harry, or to anyone for that matter, so he stopped moving and resumed his previous position, leaning against the wall in the shadows. He checked his watch. It hadn’t been as long as he thought, Harry wasn’t even ten minutes late yet. Draco decided he would only wait five minutes more.

But not even a minute had past when a panting Harry burst through the door, startling Draco so much that he jumped. Having caught a glimpse of Draco, Harry quickly closed the door and cast a locking charm on it. When he turned back, Draco could see that Harry’s eyes were wide and he had beads of sweat on his forehead.

“All right, Harry?” Draco asked.

“Sorry… got caught up by Peeves… ran the rest of the way here,” Harry said between breaths. “Was afraid… you’d have left already.”

He was touched by Harry’s last statement, but his anger at Harry’s tardiness didn’t melt away, it merely found a convenient new target. Peeves.

“Peeves! I don’t understand why they haven’t expelled that bloody poltergeist; he’s a menace! What did he do? It might be enough to get him in trouble with the teachers at least,” Draco asked a bit too eagerly.

“It wasn’t so bad, he just had crisscrossed gum from wall to wall in the corridors, so I had to take them down while he kept throwing marbles at my feet to try and trip me. A bit time consuming is all, but his rendition of the Hogwarts school song was traumatizing; his voice is terrible,” Harry replied, a slight smile on his face. Draco was not amused.

“He could have broken your legs, or your skull! We can’t let him get away with this, Harry!” he said, gesticulating dramatically.

“Alright, Draco, what’s this really about?” asked Harry, crossing his arms and looking at Draco over the rim of his glasses.

Draco controlled his face into a neutral expression.

“I don’t catch your meaning, Harry.”

“I mean, the whole school has seen Peeves going after you this week, you’ve clearly gotten on his bad side somehow… well, his worse side, anyways, and I’d like to know how and what you plan to do about it, since you’re clearly trying to drag me into it,” Harry responded matter-of-factly. This was a different boy from the one Draco had met in Madam Malkin’s. Harry had gained a lot of confidence in their first few weeks at Hogwarts. Though it wasn’t the first time someone had seen through Draco so easily—his parents had a knack for knowing when he had ulterior motives, not that they ever punished him for it, in fact, they rather encouraged him to hide them better—he was surprised that Harry had gotten to know him this quickly. He wasn’t ashamed of this part of his personality at all—it was considered rather commonplace among Slytherins—but to be found out within only a couple of seconds was somewhat embarrassing. Most people Draco had met heard only what they wanted to hear, and acted in their own self-interest out of anger or vengeance or greed or whatever else, but apparently Harry Potter was not most people.

He figured honesty was the best policy; his father had actually taught him that it was better to be honest when one could than to have to keep track of a web of lies, and he wasn’t sure he could get a lie past Harry anyways.

“Okay, here’s the story…” Draco began. As he related the Peeves-related events of the past week or so, Harry was listening closely, nodding at certain parts and laughing a bit at Draco’s description of Filch. When he finished, he looked at Harry expectantly.

“See what I mean? He needs to be punished!”

“Well…” Harry hesitated, thinking through his words carefully, “Draco, to be honest, it seems like you sort of started it.”

“I started it? You think _I_ started it? You were there!” Draco exclaimed, feeling rather betrayed.

“Yes, but Peeves is a poltergeist, they cause trouble, that’s practically their job. I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve payback,” he added quickly, “just that it might not be a good idea to try it again.”

“I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave,” retorted Draco.

“I thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning,” replied Harry. After a moment of silence, he said, “And I never said I wouldn’t help you.”

At this, Draco granted Harry a rare smile, which Harry returned warmly.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” said Draco jokingly.

“It’s not just because I’m famous?” Harry replied, only half-joking.

“Well, of course that’s why,” began Draco, eliciting a crestfallen look from Harry. He rushed on, “or it might have been at first. But I’m _Malfoy_ , and quite well-known enough myself, thank you very much. And if that was the only reason, then I wouldn’t have very well continued being friends with you after you were sorted into _Gryffindor_ ,” he said.

“You have got to stop saying, ‘Gryffindor’ like that,” Harry said without rancor. “Since we’re being honest, I didn’t want to be friends just because I liked you either—you actually kind of annoyed me at one point when you reminded me of my cousin Dudley.”

“I _annoyed_ you?” asked Draco, stunned.

“That’s the part that’s shocked you? Not the part where I had other reasons for wanting to be your friend?” asked an incredulous Harry.

“Please, Harry, everyone has ulterior motives. I’d imagined you were attracted to my ridiculous wealth and pureblood status.”

“That, right there. That is why you annoyed me. The superiority complex. I don’t care about money, I’ve got plenty, and not only did I not even know what a pureblood was when I met you, but if that was the main reason, Ron’s a pureblood too, so I could easily have cast you off after the Sorting.”

“Why then? Why are we still friends?” asked Draco quietly, a bit afraid of the answer. He had just assumed everyone wanted money and influence, both of which the name Malfoy was inextricably connected to. If that wasn’t the case, he was in completely unfamiliar territory.

“Originally, I thought you could teach me things about the wizarding world, and I was right. But other than that, I thought we sort of… connected. I don’t know, like we were alike, or we understood each other… or something,” Harry finished lamely, face slightly flushed.

Draco felt some of the tension leave his body. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or just relieved, but he was now confident that Harry wanted to be friends as much as he did.

“You are my first real friend,” Draco answered. They were simple words, and many students didn’t have friends before Hogwarts so it wasn’t unusual, but he still felt as if he were making some sort of deep confession. He looked at his feet; his face felt hot.

Harry touched him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re my first real friend too,” he said. Draco looked up and their eyes met. Both of them started to smile, but Draco quickly looked away, still feeling a bit shy.

“Thanks. But let’s not spend all evening having sappy moments, I actually have something I want to ask you,” said Draco, resuming his sarcastic manner.

“I have a few things I want to talk to you about too actually. But first, what did you want to ask me?”

“Well, I didn’t get to ask that night we almost died in the third floor corridor, but—“ began Draco, but Harry cut him off.

“That’s something I wanted to talk to you about!” exclaimed Harry. “Ron and I have been talking about the third floor corridor and we think—why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason, just waiting for you to realize you haven’t heard me ask the question you so wanted to hear a minute ago.”

“Oh, sorry,” replied Harry sheepishly. “Go ahead, but don’t let me forget about the third floor corridor, okay?”

“Okay, so, I was going to ask how exactly you managed to avoid being expelled that day at flying lessons? McGonagall isn’t exactly known for being lenient…”

“Ahh, well, it’s supposed to be a secret, but I’ll tell you anyways. But you have to promise not to tell anyone else yet,” Harry said, continuing after receiving Draco’s nod of affirmation, “She was impressed by my flying and wants me to play seeker on the Gryffindor quidditch team!”

“What?! That’s, but… you must be the youngest player on a House team in—“

“A century, that’s what Ron said,” Harry said with a grin.

This was the second time Harry had brought up Ron in one minute, and Draco was not particularly pleased about it, but decided to ignore it this time in favor of congratulating his friend.

“I saw you fly, you certainly have the talent… you might even be a match for me, and that’s saying a lot. But as a first year, you already made the House team… and that in place of being expelled! You really have some incredible luck,” said Draco, then he took on a smug expression as he continued, “Though, I suppose part of that luck is meeting me. After all, if I hadn’t thrown that Remembrall, McGonagall would never have seen you flying, would she?”

Harry laughed good-naturedly. “Fine, fine, I suppose that’s technically true, though I would prefer that you not do things in the future that could get me expelled. But really, I would give more credit to the fact that you gave me that great book. That’s how I knew what grip to use and how to pull out of that dive—though that was a close one, I almost ate dirt there.”

“You really like that book then? It is quite good, isn’t it? Well, now that you’re going to be playing for real, I have some more suggestions, I’ll bring them along next week.”

“Brilliant. You read a lot, don’t you?”

“Training our minds is the first step towards training our magic.” Draco spoke the words his mother had repeated many times when he had been eager to try out his training broom or new magical toys. Narcissa was extremely protective and cautious, and was convinced that knowing everything about something made it safer. She wasn’t very fond of surprises or unpredictability, and certainly not when it might affect the safety of her only son, so she would read the warnings and instructions aloud to him whenever he got something new—which was quite often—and when he was old enough, she demanded he read it aloud to her. Eventually, he started to enjoy learning about magical items, how they were made, and how they worked, so he started to read about it on his own, and even fiddle with his toys and alter them to do new things. That summer after he had accidentally plucked the albino peacock’s feathers, he split his time between reading and creating new toys. Maybe he could make something for Harry; Christmas wasn’t that far off. He shook his head to clear it. “Ah, let’s not forget. Something about the third floor corridor?”

“Oh! That’s right! I have a theory about what the three-headed dog might be hiding—“began Harry.

“How do you know it’s hiding something?” Draco cut in.

“Hermione noticed it was standing on a trapdoor, and it seems like a likely enough reason to have a vicious dog in the castle, doesn’t it?”

Intrigued, Draco motioned with his hand and said, “Go on.” Harry related his trip to Gringotts and Hagrid’s cryptic manner, and told him about the story in the _Prophet_.

“I heard about that, the Malfoy family does a lot of business with Gringott’s, of course, so father keeps an eye on such things. Too bad there’s no other good wizarding banks, goblins are hardly to be trusted. But clearly the thief wanted what you had taken out, and not any money or jewels, which must mean that secret package is worth a lot!” said Draco. “But what could it be?”

“I don’t know, but Ron and I are going to Hagrid’s on Friday after Potions to ask him about it. I would ask you to come, but since we’re pretending to be enemies…” Harry trailed off.

“Why does Weasley know about this, what could he possibly do to help? He can’t even get through a Potions class without melting a cauldron!” exclaimed Draco.

“Ron was with us in the third floor corridor too, he has as much right to know as you or I do. Look, I know your families have some kind of feud or something, but you’re both my friends, why can’t you just get along?”

“Never going to happen,” responded Draco as he crossed his arms in a huff.

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh and threw up his hands. “Fine, have it your way, but let the record show, I don’t like this ‘enemies in public’ thing one bit.”

There was an awkward silence, but Draco refused to be the one to break it. Harry just didn’t understand Draco’s position, and now didn’t seem like the right time to tell him everything.

“Well, I guess it’s probably getting late. We should go,” said Harry.

“Yeah, okay. But, you will tell me, right? About the third floor corridor business. Next week?” Draco asked somewhat hesitantly.

“Of course! A note in the same book on Tuesday, right?”

“Yeah.”

Harry paused, then said, “I wish you could come with to Hagrid’s.”

“Me too,” replied Draco, a note of sadness in his voice. “But I promise to tell you why his has to be such a secret someday soon. Okay?”

Harry pressed his lips together, but nodded his assent. “See you next week, then.”

“Bye,” said Draco, waving him off. Once the door had closed, Draco walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. He rested his head in his hands. He had just promised to tell Harry about his father’s plans… but would he be able to keep that promise without losing his friend?


	7. Secrets, secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco have a lot to talk about, including their reasons for becoming friends in the first place. But what happens when Hermione discovers their secret meetings?

Schoolwork began to get busier; as the teachers saw the first years beginning to get the hang of things, they began to load on more assignments. Harry was having trouble keeping up with the homework—he had no problem with spell casting, but theory of magic was a bit too abstract for him. Writing three lengths of parchment for McGonagall about the magical principles involved in transfiguring a glass of water into a candlestick took two nights, with quidditch practice occupying another two. Harry would gladly spend every evening playing quidditch, it was incredibly fun, and he was really, really good at it. He had never been particularly gifted at anything before, and being good at something to do with magic felt like a sort of relief, like he really did belong here after all. He had been carrying his broomstick, rushing off to practice one day when he ran into Draco and some of the other Slytherins, who booed and hissed at him. He ignored them, but noticed Draco give his Nimbus 2000 a strange look when he passed by. _Probably just because first years aren’t supposed to have brooms, he must have been surprised._

Despite being so busy, Harry found himself waiting for his Wednesday meeting with Draco. He and Ron had gone down to Hagrid’s hut, but Hagrid hadn’t been in at the time, and they hadn’t had time to go again due to their burgeoning schoolwork. That didn’t stop them from theorizing, though. Ron thought the mysterious item must be something that gives the holder some kind of amazing power, why else would someone pass up vaults full of gold? Harry couldn’t begin to imagine what it might be, but he was sure it must be magical, and he knew it was not very large from when he saw Hagrid slip it into his pocket.

On Tuesday when Harry went to the library to pick up the note from Draco, he noticed Hermione Granger watching him as he walked towards the aisle with _Ancient Achievements_ in it, so he passed it and grabbed another book a few aisles over, idly paging through it for a while before sneaking back over and sliding the note out of the book while she was absorbed in her reading. He was going to have to be careful from now on.

***

Draco could hardly wait for Harry to arrive. When he did—five minutes late—Draco immediately asked, “How on earth did you manage to get a Nimbus 2000?” He might have been happy for his friend, but there was definitely an edge of jealousy to his voice.

“Well, hello to you too, Draco. Yeah, I know, first years aren’t supposed to have brooms, but I guess they’ve made an exception since I’m playing as Seeker. It’s great, isn’t it? Fast as a bullet, and really responsive,” Harry effused.

“Yeah, great,” Draco responded without enthusiasm. It made sense for Harry to have a good broom, he was going to need it. But there was still a little voice in his head telling him that _he_ was the one who was supposed to have a Nimbus 2000, _he_ was supposed to be the only first year with a broom, _he_ should have been picked for his house team. He tried to brush the thoughts away. They only got to meet once a week, he couldn’t afford to waste that time sulking.

“So, did you go visit Hagrid?” he asked. He had been pondering what could possibly need a three-headed guard dog and was still unable to come up with anything. Perhaps a weapon? Or a powerful magical artifact? Maybe even a book of secret knowledge? There were too many possibilities.

“We tried, but he wasn’t in. But Ron and I have been thinking about what it could be…” Harry started, then proceeded to explain their ideas and what he already knew about the object he had seen Hagrid take out of the vault.

“It’s not much to go on, but it’s a start. I’ll flip through some of my books and see if I can find anything,” Draco said when Harry finished. He couldn’t imagine that there were too many powerful magical objects that were that small, and for someone to break into Gringotts to get it, it had to be really rare, perhaps even one of a kind. Surely there would be some mention of something like that in a book somewhere.

They talked about many things after that, both complained bitterly about the Transfiguration paper and how pointless DADA seemed to be with Quirrell as the teacher. Draco talked to Harry about his favorite quidditch team, the Montrose Magpies, and Harry talked about some of the things he was learning at quidditch practice, though he left out any details of plays since Wood had sworn him to secrecy. Before they knew it, an hour had passed and they had to head back to their respective commonrooms.

Draco noted with some relief that Harry hadn’t asked him again about the reason for their secrecy. Though Harry did seem to hesitate at the door, he simply bade Draco farewell and walked out. Draco wanted to tell Harry, the guilt was nagging at him and he could feel the pressure of Harry’s expectations weighing on him, but he hadn’t quite figured out how to say it yet.

Ever since he had sent Lucius that letter, Draco had been expecting some sort of severe punishment to fall on his head at any moment, but none had ever come. He had received several letters from his mother, and one from his father, and neither of them had mentioned it. He hoped beyond hope that Lucius had decided to just ignore the letter or that it had gotten lost somehow. If that was the case, there was even more pressure to keep the friendship with Harry a secret, and he really wanted to impart this to Harry, but was afraid what Harry might think of him.

Every time they met, Draco found himself liking Harry more and more. He could be a different person around Harry than he could with Blaise and the Slytherins. It was great fun hanging out with his housemates, but it was also work. Any slip of the tongue or moment of weakness was taken note of and saved up as ammo for later; Draco knew because he did it himself. But with Harry he mostly didn’t have to be cunning or guarded.

_Next time_ , Draco told himself, _next time, I will tell him._

***

He didn’t tell him next time. He had gotten so involved in talking about his theories for the object hidden under the trapdoor—Angelica’s Ring, or perhaps even the Brazen Head?—that he had quite forgotten his resolve. Well, maybe he sort of wanted to forget. Either way, the time had come and passed, and another week went by. And another.

The week before Halloween found Draco impatiently waiting for Harry to show up and checking his watch every few minutes. Seventeen minutes late.

Draco narrowed his eyes when Harry burst through the door.

“Is it a Gryffindor thing, or is it just a personal habit of yours to be constantly late,” drawled Draco. He was clearly a bit peeved.

“I’m sorry, quidditch practice ran late!” Harry said. “Were you waiting long?”

“Oh, no, no, not long, only since the time I wrote in the note,” said Draco as he crossed his arms, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry was tired from quidditch, and was not in the mood to comfort his sulking friend.

“Well, if we weren’t following your stupid plan, I could have just told you I had quidditch and needed to change the time,” he snapped.

“My plan is _not_ stupid, you’re stupid!”

“No, you’re stupid!”

“You are!”

“No, you are!”

“No, you are!”

For some reason, Harry had begun to grin. Draco had to fight his instinct to return the smile.

“I don’t know what’s so funny,” Draco drawled. He arched one eyebrow at Harry.

“Are we seriously having a ‘you are, no, you are’ fight? I didn’t think people did that other than on T.V. but here we are, yelling at each other like five-year-olds,” Harry said, his voice filled with amusement.

“Well, you started it,” Draco replied.

“I did not!”

“You did too!”

They looked each other in the eyes and both burst out laughing at the same time. Before long, they were both bent over, clutching their stomachs with one hand and reaching out to support each other with their other hand as they laughed. After their laughter finally faded, they both stood up straight and smiled.

“I haven’t laughed like that in ages… maybe ever,” Draco mused somewhat breathlessly.

“Me either,” replied Harry. Then his face turned serious. “Draco, I think it’s time you told me what all the secrecy is about.”

Draco froze for a moment and met Harry’s eyes, then he looked away and let out a deep sigh. Might as well get it over with. “I hope you won’t be mad, but just know that I wouldn’t have gone along with it if I didn’t already like you,” he started, his nervousness clearly etched in his expression. Harry didn’t say anything as Draco stumbled through an explanation—leaving out any mention of “dark wizards” and such incriminating things—of his father’s command, the incentive of a Nimbus 2000, and Lucius’ sudden reversal of his command. Draco didn’t mention the letter he had sent his father when he thought Harry might be expelled—no reason to embarrass himself over something so trivial.

When he finished, he just stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot uneasily.

Harry broke the silence. “One question. Before or after?”

“What?” Draco replied, looking up.

“Did your father tell you to become my friend before or after we met in Madam Malkin’s?” Harry asked, speaking slowly.

“After,” breathed Draco, feeling relieved for some reason.

“Okay, then,” responded Harry with a nod.

“We’re… we’re alright then?” asked Draco, already beginning to smile.

Harry smiled back. “Yeah, we’re alright. I have another question for you, since we’re being honest with each other, right? Well, Ron told me on the train, and I’ve been wondering about it all this time… He said your dad was a Death Eater, that he was a supporter of Volde—oh, sorry, You-Know-Who. Is that true?”

Draco took a moment to think about his answer. He couldn’t very well betray his father, but he didn’t want to lie to Harry. “I only know what my father has told me,” he said slowly. “I know he had connections with the Death Eaters, but as he said at his trial, he was under the Imperius curse. He’s not a bad person, and I swear, if I thought he had anything to do with your parents’ death, I would tell you,” Draco said, looking Harry in the eye. It was mostly the truth, though Draco didn’t tell Harry about his suspicions that the Imperius curse claim may have been false or that Lucius hadn’t abandoned his DE connections. Suspicions weren’t facts, and there was no point making his family look bad over things that may not be true. He honestly believed that his father was a good person, looking out for the magical community, and he was sure he wouldn’t have anything to do with killing Harry’s parents or trying to kill baby Harry. It wasn’t like Harry was muggle-born, after all, and even if he was, Draco was confident his father wouldn’t condone killing babies, that was barbaric.

Harry looked thoughtful. “I trust you, Draco. I may have doubts about your father, but I trust you,” he said, looking back at him. Draco felt his stomach flip over a little. Being trusted like this was a first for him, and he felt a twinge of guilt for not being completely honest about his father. But he let the feeling pass and fell back into easy conversation with Harry. He felt lighter than he had in weeks, the weight of his secret and his fear of how Harry would react having finally lifted.

***

They were supposed to meet again the day before Halloween. On Tuesday, Draco went through his usual cover-up methods and put the note in the book. He didn’t find out until the next evening that a certain nosey, bushy-haired witch had seen Harry put away the same book last week and found the note.

Wednesday evening, Draco arrived a few minutes before the scheduled time and settled in to wait since Harry was rarely on time, but only a minute or so later, the door opened.

Draco watched in disbelief as Hermione Granger stepped into the room and looked around, her gaze finally landing on him.

“What are you doing here?” asked Hermione, clearly suspicious.

“I could ask you the same thing. Are you following me?” Draco replied, crossing his arms.

“Following you? Why would I be following you?”

“Why are you here then?”

“I just found this note and…” Hermione’s face lit up with realization. “Are you… are you here to meet Harry?” she asked.

“What are you talking about?” Draco snapped, covering up his surprise with irritation.

“You are, you’re meeting him in secret. But, why? You never act friendly towards each other in classes, and it doesn’t seem like you’re getting a study group together,” she said, glancing around the empty room. “Unless-“ she began, but was cut off when Harry burst through the door.

Draco let out a frustrated sigh. The one day he _wanted_ Harry to be late, and here he comes bursting into the room precisely on time.

Harry didn’t see Hermione as he walked into the room and close the door behind him. “Draco, I made it on time!” he said, beaming.

“Draco?” Hermione said, “Not Malfoy?”

Harry spun around to find Hermione peering at him, and he looked blankly back at her, trying to assess the situation.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded after a moment.

Hermione looked a bit smug at this point, Harry’s entrance a clear confirmation of her suspicion.

“I know you’re meeting in secret,” she stated, holding her head a little higher. “But have you been doing this all this time? Since the third floor corridor? And why? It seems an awful lot of trouble.”

“It’s none of your business,” said Harry, hotly.

“And you’re not very good at hiding it either,” she went on as if she hadn’t heard, “It was pretty obvious that you were using the book to exchange messages, it’s not a very good system, is it?”

“I don’t need some Mudblood judging me. Keep your opinions to yourself,” Draco snapped, offended. He was also irritated. Now he would have to think of a new system for his meetings with Harry.

“What’s a Mudblood?” Harry and Hermione asked simultaneously, and then looked at each other in surprise. They turned away and looked expectantly at Draco.

Draco stared at them for a moment, and then asked, “What, are you serious?” His father used the term quite often, and though Draco knew it was not a particularly nice word, he assumed, at least, that enough people used it regularly that Harry and Granger should have heard it by now. But apparently they hadn’t.

“Well, people like Granger, obviously,” he sneered at her, then turned to Harry and explained a bit more softly, “Muggle-borns, people from non-magical families.”

“Seems a bit rude to call them muddy though,” Harry mused, clearly not quite grasping that Draco had indeed intended to insult the nosey witch.

“Perhaps, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? Their magic isn’t pure, it’s been muddied by their muggle ancestry,” retorted Draco, repeating what he had heard his parents say many times before.

“That’s ridiculous,” Hermione scoffed, but Draco thought he sensed a bit of uncertainty in her voice. Maybe she was a bit insecure about her magic? Only one way to find out.

“Is it? You can’t even get a broom to answer your summons. It’s hardly a surprise, how much of a witch can a Mudblood be anyways? You don’t belong here,” replied Draco, saying what he could to push her buttons and get her to leave. It worked. Her eyes started to tear up and she ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Draco,” Harry spoke in a sharp tone. “That was too far.”

“How? I was only answering her question and stating facts. It’s not my fault she didn’t like what she was hearing. She was nosing about in our business anyways, it’s her own fault,” pouted Draco. He disliked being scolded, and he disliked even more that Harry made him feel a little bit ashamed of himself.

“What facts? She may be nosey and a know-it-all, but everyone knows she is the smartest witch in our year. I don’t see how her ancestry could have anything to do with it.”

“Well, of course, you wouldn’t, you were raised by muggles who probably don’t know anything about magic, much less the importance of blood purity to preserve magical communities. But it’s a fact, purebloods are superior.”

Harry’s face flushed red. “You know my mum must’ve been a muggle-born, considering that my aunt is a muggle.” He walked over to the door and grabbed the handle. “Suppose you don’t want to associate with someone dirty like me either, then,” he said, and then opened the door and stepped out, slamming it behind him.

“Bloody Gryffindors can’t close a door quietly,” Draco muttered to himself. He wanted to go after Harry, but he couldn’t risk being seen running after him, and besides, he had no idea what he would say. Apologize? But what did he have to apologize for? He was just telling Harry the facts. He let out a sigh and slid a hand through his hair. What a way to welcome Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a rough week, (particularly for many Americans) and we all need a bit of a break, so let's read a bunch of fanfics and think happy thoughts every once in a while, shall we?   
> I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!


	8. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Hermione, and Draco are not on speaking terms, and someone has just let a troll loose in the castle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! It's finals week and my internet has been on the fritz, so editing has taken a bit longer than usual. Enjoy!

The Great Hall was festive, fully decorated for the evening’s Halloween feast. Harry was not feeling festive, though. It was bad enough that he and Draco had ended their meeting on bad terms—not that Harry was very happy with Draco right now, he had been way out of line—but he also felt a bit guilty for being mean to Hermione earlier that morning after class. She had approached him, but Harry was still irritated with her for ruining his meeting with Draco yesterday, so he told her to go put her nose in someone else’s business before she could get a word out. Tears filled her eyes and she turned and ran away. She still hadn’t shown up to dinner.

Ron didn’t seem to notice Harry’s mood and talked continuously about Quidditch, which luckily required minimum input from Harry, as his mind was occupied. He kept glancing at Draco, but all he could see was the back of his head. He was also keeping an eye out for Hermione, his eyes shifting to the large doors of the Great Hall every few seconds.

Harry started. Ron had waved his hand in front of Harry’s face.

“What’s going on, Harry? You’ve been distracted all supper…”

Harry sighed and told him about being mean to Hermione and indicated towards the doors.

“…and she still hasn’t shown up for dinner.”

Neville, who was sitting across for them, added, “*Parvati Patil says that she wouldn't come out of the girls bathroom. She said that she'd been in there all afternoon, crying.*” He gave Harry a long look, then shrugged and turned back to his food.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Well, it serves her right for always being such a huge know-it-all! She was bound to get told off sometime, though I’ll admit, I’m surprised it was you, mate, you usually aren’t too bothered…” Ron said with an inquiring look.

“I was just tired… from Quidditch practice,” replied Harry, sensing Ron wanted some kind of explanation.

Ron nodded. “She’ll get over it, Ginny usually throws a fit and won’t stop until she’s clocked us with something. Threw the cat at me one time, I just about lost my nose!” he said, but continued upon seeing Harry’s startled expression. “But Hermione’s a lot calmer than Ginny, I’m sure she’ll forget about it by tomorrow.” He patted Harry’s arm awkwardly and attempted a reassuring smile.

Harry knew Ron was trying to help, but still, he felt responsible…

The Great Hall doors slammed open. “*TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!*” screamed Quirrell, running towards the teacher’s table. “*Thought you ought to know*,” he said faintly before collapsing to the ground.

The Great Hall was completely silent for a moment and then broke into an uproar as many students began to panic. However, Dumbledore soon had control of the situation and directed the students back to their commonrooms.

Harry, who had not panicked as he wasn’t entirely sure what a real troll was, and Ron, who had turned a bit pale, got up from the table and began to file towards the Gryffindors headed out the door. Neville rushed over to them, his eyes wide and hands shaking a bit.

“Harry, Ron! What about Herm-m-mione? Isn’t she s-s-still in the g-girl’s bathroom? She d-d-doesn’t know about the t-t-t-troll, she could be in d-danger!” he exclaimed in a panicked voice.

Harry and Ron exchanged wide-eyed looks. Harry felt his stomach twist with guilt.

“This is my fault,” he said, “We have to go get her.”

Ron just nodded and turned a bit paler.

“I-I-I’m g-going with you,” stuttered Neville, a stubborn look crossing his face.

Harry sighed, last time he had tried to convince Neville to stay behind had been the night they met Draco in the trophy room; it had taken a long time to convince him, and this time, Harry was worried they didn’t have any time to waste.

“Fine, let’s go. Once we’re out of the Great Hall, follow along the wall until we’re out of sight and then head for the girls’ bathroom. Don’t let anyone see you,” Harry instructed under his breath.

 

***

 

Draco surreptitiously scanned the Gryffindor line for a glimpse of Harry, but couldn’t find him. Changing tactics, he searched for Weasleys and found three of them in line, but not Ron. Then, he caught a flash of orange in the shadows near the wall. Weasley, Harry, and Longbottom were all headed away from the queue up the stairs… where were they going? Harry might not know about how dangerous trolls could be, but Weasley and Longbottom were purebloods, their parents should have told them about trolls. Surely they wouldn’t be so daft as to wander about when one was loose?

Draco quickly looked around him and saw that his fellow Slytherins were focused on listening to the teachers’ instructions: since the Slytherin commonroom was in the dungeons, a group of teachers would be with them in case they ran into the troll. Now was the time to move. He slipped away towards the wall, pushing his hood up over his hair, and followed along the path Harry had taken.

He caught up with them quickly, but didn’t alert them to his presence. He was listening to their whispers—something about Granger being in the girls’ bathroom. _Bollocks, it can’t be about yesterday, can it? Bloody Granger’s more trouble than she’s worth._

A sudden “Shh!” caught his attention, and he pressed against the wall as the group of boys in front of him did the same. A ways ahead, he could just make out the figure of Professor Snape walking briskly towards the stairs leading up, away from the dungeons. _Strange…_

Harry and the two others seemed to think it strange too, and started to follow Snape, when they suddenly stopped and threw their hands over their noses. Draco felt a sense of dread wash over him even before the smell of the troll reached his nose. He wanted, more than anything, to turn around and run back to his commonroom, away from the troll. And if it had just been Weasley and Longbottom, he would have. But it was Harry. And no matter what kind of fight they’d had, he wasn’t turning his back on Harry.

He thought about darting forward, grabbing Harry, and running, but before he could decide if he was willing to risk exposing their friendship, the troll came into view. It was an ugly thing. Draco had never seen one in person, but he had heard stories of muggles going for a hike in the mountains, only to be found the next day smashed to a bloody pulp with most of the meat eaten off their bones. His father said it was good to “thin the herd,” as there were too many muggles anyways, and anyone ridiculous enough to climb a mountain “on foot, like a barbarian” was simply a drain on society. The stories horrified Draco more than he would care to admit, and after seeing this massive troll and the huge club it carried, he had a pretty good idea how those muggles had gotten so smashed up.

Luckily for all of them, the troll didn’t notice them and continued on, eventually pushing through an open door. Draco watched as the three boys locked the door and gave each other high fives, clearly thinking they had bested the troll. But something was niggling at the back of Draco’s thoughts… Why had they come this way?

About a second before he heard the high-pitched scream, he remembered they had said Granger was in the girls’ bathroom, which was the door they had just locked. The three boys sprang into action, unlocking and pulling the door open and rushing into the bathroom, wands out.

_Idiots_ , Draco thought, _just typical for a bunch of Gryffindors to rush in without a plan!_

He ran to the door and peeked through. The troll had focused on Granger, and didn’t seem aware that the three boys were trying to get its attention. A couple stalls had been completely smashed, and from the looks of things, Granger was next. Harry appeared to have other plans, and managed to catch the troll between the eyes with a broken piece of sink. Draco’s hand clenched around his wand when he saw the troll turning toward Harry and raising its club. He heard Ron Weasley attempting the levitation charm they had just recently learned in Charms, with Granger’s panicked voice trying to instruct him. Weasley and his hand-me-down wand would never manage a levitation charm strong enough to lift the troll! What were they thinking?!

The troll’s club whooshed past Harry who dodged it and somehow managed to get on top of the troll. Draco wasn’t sure what Harry was trying to do, but he didn’t think Harry losing his wand up the troll’s nose was a part of the plan. It grabbed Harry and held him midair, poised to swing its club at Harry’s head. Weasley was still trying the levitation charm, and Draco finally realized that he was going for the club, not the troll itself.

_Weasley will never manage it, but I might—no, I have to! Trolls may be stupid, but Harry can’t hold out like that forever_ , Draco thought as the troll’s first swing missed Harry completely.

Not keen on giving himself away unnecessarily, he waited until Weasley was about to try the spell again, and incanted, “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” Draco was focused on the charm, so he didn’t notice when Granger and Longbottom turned their heads his direction. The club floated out of the troll’s hand and up about a foot. The troll looked confused for a second, but didn’t seem particularly bothered and went to swing at Harry with his fist. Draco narrowed his eyes and put all his focus into floating the club towards the troll’s head before releasing the spell.

The club plummeted and hit the troll’s head with a large clunking noise. The troll let go of Harry, who tumbled to the ground and quickly rolled out of the way as the troll collapsed to the ground where Harry had landed the moment before. It was out cold.

Draco let out a sigh of relief and did a quick survey of the room. It was then that he noticed Granger and Longbottom staring at him. Without a second glance, Draco spun around and ran back down the hall towards the Slytherin commonroom, keeping to the shadows. At one point, he had to duck into a darkened doorway to avoid McGonagall, who was rushing towards the girls’ bathroom with a fierce look on her face. Draco spared a moment to worry about Harry getting into trouble, but he had learned from last time—McGonagall was not about to expel her new Gryffindor seeker.

He was already dreading tomorrow. He was going to have to find a way to convince Granger and Longbottom to keep their mouths shut… and try to get Harry to talk to him again… Some Halloween this had turned out to be.

 

***

 

“Harry, can I have a word?” asked Hermione once they had climbed through the portrait hole. He let Neville and Ron pass him to the commonroom; Ron was remarking again how he couldn’t believe he had finally gotten the levitation charm right, and Neville was just nodding along, though he did shoot a glance at Hermione as he passed her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for coming after me. I’m really sorry about the other day, I should have minded my own business.”

Harry waved away her apology, “No, I’m sorry, I was a right git to you this morning, it’s my fault this happened, really.” Hermione had gotten detentions with McGonagall and lost 50 house points. He knew it must be hard for her, she wasn’t the type to get into trouble, and she had lied and taken all the blame herself to protect Harry, Neville, and Ron.

“And, there’s something else…” Hermione hesitated. “I know I made a mess of things for you and Mal… for you and Draco, and I should probably stay out of it, but… Harry, he was there tonight, in the doorway. He’s the one who saved you, really, he did the charm. I could tell it was him—Ron still says the incantation wrong, for heaven’s sake—and Neville saw it too, but I just… I thought you should know,” she said, finally, bringing her eyes to meet his.

Harry looked away, not sure how he felt about this. He had a little swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he could feel a smile on his face, but then he remembered their argument and frowned.

“He still said some horrible things, Hermione. He was out-of-line.”

“Yes, but Harry, I don’t know if he really means them. It sounded like he was quoting from a book to me, and I know he was upset that I had found out your secret.”

“It’s his bloody secret, not mine!” Harry practically yelled, suddenly angry.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and said, “Well, you feel free to keep on being angry at the person who saved all of our lives tonight. I, on the other hand, am going to talk to him tomorrow, to thank him.” She brushed past him into the commonroom and was up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory before he could get a word out.

Harry walked through the commonroom, avoiding Ron who was telling the tale of his heroic take-down of the troll to a rapt audience, and trudged up the stairs. He intended to climb right into bed, but it appeared that Neville had been waiting for him.

“Harry,” he said, his face serious.

Harry waved him off. “I know, Neville, Hermione talked to me about it already. And no, I don’t know if I’m going to try to talk to him or not,” he said.

“But Harry, what about Ron? He thinks he took down the troll. Should we… should we tell him?” Neville asked, twisting his hands.

“No!” replied Harry quickly, shooting a look at the door. “No, let’s just keep this between us, okay?”

Neville nodded earnestly, clearly relieved that they wouldn’t have to burst Ron’s bubble. But his brow creased again only a second later.

“But Harry… isn’t that lying? I’m a terrible liar, I don’t know if I will be able to hide it.”

“It’s not a lie, exactly, it’s more like just not saying anything about it,” replied Harry, not meeting Neville’s eyes.

“I don’t know…”

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. “Neville, please.”

Neville stared at him for a second longer, and then nodded his acquiescence. Harry changed into his pajamas and got ready for bed. By the time he got back to the room, Ron was also there getting ready. He smiled at Harry.

“I can’t believe I finally got that charm. Reckon it was the pressure of the situation; they say people can do some crazy things when they’re in danger. Guess I better get good marks in Charms after this though, eh Harry?”

Harry gave a non-committal grunt, pulled back his sheets and climbed into bed. He was glad Neville had already pulled the curtains around his bed, Harry didn’t think he could handle an accusing glance from the other boy right now.

“Bloody brilliant Halloween! Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, brilliant.”

Harry pulled the curtains and closed his eyes, hoping Ron would get the hint and leave him alone. It seemed to work, and Ron went about getting ready for bed, occasionally muttering, “ _Wingardium leviosa!_ ” Harry felt terrible lying to Ron, but thought about how much worse it would be if he told him. In that moment, he decided that he needed to talk to Draco, at least to convince him not to say anything to Ron. And he grudgingly acknowledged that Hermione might have a point—Draco sometimes said some pretty arrogant or even cruel things, but it had never seemed like he believed the things he said, rather that he simply never questioned them.

Harry covered his head with the blankets. Tomorrow. He would deal with this tomorrow. For now, he was exhausted. After a few minutes, he fell asleep, still wondering how to approach Draco.


	9. Detention and Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mischief lands Harry and Draco in detention. Together. Will they be able to make up before Christmas?

Half the students in the Great Hall were staring openly at a small group of first years at the Slytherin table. Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom had sat on the bench next to Draco Malfoy, who looked like he had swallowed a toad.

“What are they doing?” asked Ron, utterly perplexed.

“Haven’t the foggiest,” replied Harry, his eyes fixed on the trio. Judging from Draco’s expression, he didn’t know what those two wanted from him either, but he was clearly not happy they had approached him.

Suddenly, Hermione stood up and hit her hand on the table. That drew attention from the teacher’s table, and McGonagall immediately headed towards them as Hermione continued to gesticulate angrily and wag her finger at Draco, who was now smirking. It seemed like she was yelling but no sound was coming out. _Silencing charm._ Harry chuckled and then realized Draco was looking at him and stopped.

After a few minutes during which McGonagall lectured them about doing magic in the Great Hall and causing scenes, Hermione and Neville returned to the Gryffindor table. Neville sat next to Ron and peered sheepishly at Harry, and Hermione threw herself down on the bench next to him in a huff.

“Well, I never! Silencing me when all I was trying to do was thank him for-“ Hermione began, but the sound was once again cut off. Her lips kept moving for a second before she realized that she had been silenced again. She whirled to look at Draco, who held up his hands in a plea of innocence, though he couldn’t hide his smirk. She turned back around just in time to see Harry hastily stowing his wand back in his robes. In a perfect recreation of the scene before, Hermione hit her hands on the table and started gesticulating and pointing at Harry, and McGonagall whooshed down from the staff table to intervene.

“Mr. Potter, do you care to explain what is going on here?” she asked sternly, waving her wand and releasing the silencing charm on Hermione, who immediately began talking.

“Professor, I was just-“ she began, but McGonagall held up a hand to silence her. Hermione sat back down on the bench, arms crossed.

“Mr. Potter,” she repeated, waiting for his answer.

“Nothing, ma’am,” he muttered, looking down at the table.

“Nothing, is it? And you and Mr. Malfoy just happened to do the same nothing to the same person, one after the other?” She tapped her wand on the table and two papers with writing appeared. She sent one floating toward Malfoy, and the other to Harry. 

“Detention. The details are on the paper, do not be late, and please refrain from more ‘nothing’ in the Great Hall,” said McGonagall before returning to the staff table.

Harry groaned.

“Tough break, mate. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be over quick. McGonagall probably can’t stand Malfoy any more than we can,” said Ron, patting Harry’s arm sympathetically. Harry just sighed and looked back across the Hall at Draco. 

_At least we might get a chance to talk without arranging a secret meeting_ , he thought.

 

***

 

Draco shot another glance at Harry, who was also scrubbing desks crusted with slug slime from the day’s Transfiguration practice. Harry didn’t meet his gaze, but Draco had the feeling he was looking at him every time Draco turned his gaze away.

“You must be finished cleaning the desks, since you keep staring at each other, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, fixing them both with a stern look. Harry looked guilty, but Draco kept his expression blank. McGonagall sighed and gave a wave of her wand, effectively cleaning the remaining desks of slime. “Fine. You may go. But be warned, any more of your shenanigans and it will be lost house points and a week’s worth of detention for both of you.”

Draco left first, but waited at the door, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. For some reason, he felt like it was now or never.

Harry walked out of the room and met Draco’s eyes. “Let’s talk,” he said. Draco nodded. Harry walked into an empty classroom, locking the door after Draco before turning to face him.

“I know you were there, on Halloween. Thank you for probably saving my life. But you still said some mean things and I don’t like all this sneaking around, it’s too much work, and now Hermione and Neville basically know anyways, so I don’t see the point but I still want to be friends if you’ll just apologize and stop saying things like ‘mudblood’,” Harry blurted out.

Draco blinked. “Ok. I was there. And it’s a bloody good thing I was there, because you could have been killed! You don’t like sneaking around?! What do you think you were doing that night? And now I’ve got Granger and Longbottom following me around all the time, my housemates are giving me all sorts of strange looks. But… I am sorry I used a nasty word, even though it is true that muggle-borns are not as good at magic as purebloods, I should not use that word, it’s out of fashion anyways. And I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad about you, Harry, you know I didn’t.”

Harry thought for a moment. It wasn’t exactly what he had been hoping for, and Draco still had that strange idea about muggle-borns—it couldn’t be true, Harry had been told his mother was a brilliant witch, and Hermione obviously was as well—but he wasn’t sure he could get much more from him, and he didn’t want to fight anymore.

Finally he said, “Fine. Friends?”

“Friends,” Draco replied with a relived smile.

“But you know, Hermione is never going to let this go,” Harry said.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What do we do? I obviously can’t been seen hanging around with her either, not that I would want to anyways.”

“And Neville?”

“Longbottom? He’s not so much of a problem, he’s a pureblood and his family aren’t particularly considered blood traitors, they don’t associate with muggles or anything like that. But you’re not seriously asking me to be friends with Longbottom? He’s pathetic!" 

Harry glared at Draco. “He’s not pathetic! He’s a good person and he was in the bathroom that night too, trying to help just like you were. He deserves to be included too.”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to help, I was actually helping, there’s a difference,” Draco said before throwing his hands in the air. “Fine! Fine. I will allow Longbottom to speak to me, occasionally… I’ve just had a brilliant idea. Longbottom can be our go-between! I can speak to him without being monitored too closely, and he can help us set up times to meet. That would work, wouldn’t it?”

“Sure, why not? You’re going to have to be nicer to him though.”

“I will… consider it,” Draco responded, trying not to think about what being nice to Longbottom would do to his reputation.

Harry just rolled his eyes and hid a smile.

 

***

 

Using Longbottom as a go-between worked surprisingly well. Harry and Draco were able to meet every week. There was just one problem. Granger insisted on coming to some of the meetings, and although he only occasionally showed up to the meetings, Longbottom was getting overly friendly. 

“I mean, really, Harry, he’s started calling me Draco!” complained Draco to Harry at one of their meetings.

“Is that really such a bad thing, though?” chimed in Granger. Draco clenched his teeth.

“Of course, it’s a bad thing. Think about my reputation! He’s just so… embarrassing!”

“I don’t think he’s embarrassing. He’s a good friend, Draco,” Harry replied sternly.

“And as far as your reputation, being friendly with the Longbottoms could hardly hurt you. Neville’s grandmother is quite powerful in wizarding society, and they don’t have any of the suspicion surrounding them that your family does. It’s just a fact,” Hermione said, looking a bit smug. Draco looked down his nose at her and sneered, imitating his father to the best of his ability.

Draco and Hermione had gone back and forth quite a bit about what constituted a fact in the past weeks. It infuriated Draco when Hermione would ask him to cite the sources of his facts. Some facts, he argued, are so obvious that they don’t need a reference to prove them. Hermione claimed this was lazy, and said she wouldn’t accept his arguments without established facts to back them up, and that Draco’s father was not a credible source of factual information.

“Anyways, let’s talk about something else. What are you two doing for Christmas?” said Harry.

“I’m going home to see my parents,” replied Hermione.

“Me too, though we will be hosting a gala at the Manor, of course,” Draco replied with a little smirk in Hermione’s direction. She rolled her eyes.

“How about you, Harry?” asked Hermione. “Will you be going home as well?”

“No way! You couldn’t pay me to go back to the Dursley’s if I don’t have to. I’m staying here. Ron is too, it’s going to be great,” said Harry, grinning. Draco just barely managed to hide his pout.

“That sounds lovely. And while you’re here you can do some more research on what might be in the third floor corridor. I have a few book suggestions,” said Hermione, pulling out a rather long list and handing it to Harry. They had decided to include Hermione in trying to figure out what the three-headed dog was hiding, since Harry said she would probably do more than half of the research herself. They still weren’t any closer to finding out what it could be, though. “Goodness, look at the time. I haven’t nearly finished packing yet!”

“But break isn’t until next week,” said Draco, confused.

“Yes, but I always have to pack and repack, because I usually end up reading several of the books I’ve packed and then have to replace them with new ones. So much to do,” she responded before hurrying out the door, looking at what appeared to be a packing list. 

“Well, I guess we won’t see each other until the New Year then, right?” asked Harry, looking a little crestfallen.

“I could, maybe, try to convince my parents to let me come back before the New Year, if you… you know, if you would want to see me,” Draco replied, not looking Harry directly in the eyes.

“Really? Brilliant,” said Harry, and Draco was relieved to see him grinning. 

“Right. Well, see you soon then. Happy Christmas, Harry.”

“Happy Christmas, Draco.”

 

***

 

Harry woke up on Christmas day to Ron yelling at him to start opening presents.

Harry couldn’t believe it. He had a pile of presents, more presents than he had ever gotten in his life. A wooden flute from Hagrid, a jumper and fudge from Mrs. Weasley, a fifty-pence piece from the Dursley’s (they must have been really happy he didn’t go home for the holidays), and a box of chocolate frogs from Hermione. And he still had more presents!

He picked up the big one first, and ripped it open to reveal a cloak. He handed it to Ron.

“What do you reckon?” Harry asked, since the card hadn’t said who it was from.

“Dunno. But better try it on. Go on!” Ron encouraged, holding it out to him. 

It was an invisibility cloak. Harry’s first thought was that he couldn’t wait to show this to Draco, he knew Draco loved things like this.

The, he picked up the smaller package and read the note, which read, “Open this in private.” It was Draco’s handwriting.

Harry rushed upstairs after telling Ron something about changing into his sweater. He jumped into bed, closed the curtains around him, and immediately started ripping the wrapping off. He opened the black leather box to find another note sitting on top of a gold watch with abalone and ruby inlay. 

The note read:

_Happy Christmas, Harry! This watch matches mine, except it has Gryffindor colors (though as I’ve said, you’d look better in green and silver). I got it before we had Longbottom to set our meetings, so the charm I added is a bit less useful now. It’s charmed so that when you adjust the time counterclockwise, the face will glow and the same time will appear on my watch. Of course, if I adjust the time on mine, the same will happen to yours. To set it to the regular time, adjust it clockwise—it won’t do anything to the time you sent to my watch. It would have been complicated to set up meetings this way anyways, but at least now you stand a chance of being on time once in a while. See you soon!  
_

_Yours, Draco_

Harry stared at the watch open-mouthed for a moment, trying to guess how much this must have cost. Then, he shook his head and decided he was better off not knowing. He strapped it onto his wrist and admired it for a minute, then tried adjusting the time to see if it would work. The face glowed and Harry waited for a minute, but there was no glow in return. Harry shrugged. Maybe Draco wasn’t awake yet.

“Come on, Harry, I’m starving! Let’s go down to breakfast,” shouted Ron up the stairs.

“Coming!” shouted Harry as he quickly pulled on the sweater Mrs. Wealsey had made him and glanced again at his watch. Nothing yet.

 

***

 

Draco woke late on Christmas morning to a house elf offering him hot cocoa. His mother did this every year; let him sleep in, drink cocoa, and after he and his parents had eaten breakfast, Draco would open presents. It was good to be home. 

He took the hot cocoa and was sipping it when he heard the tapping at the window. He went and found a snowy owl—Harry’s owl!—at the window. It was carrying a package, which Draco took, and the owl promptly flew away.

Draco looked around the room to check that no one was there, and then quickly opened the package. There was a note from Harry.

_Happy Christmas, Draco! This notebook is charmed so that only those who know the password can read what’s written. Hermione helped me with it, I would never have managed the charm on my own. I’d imagine it’s not too hard to break the charm, but most people won’t suspect an empty notebook has secret writing, I figure. I bought the notebook and thought of the idea before we had Neville helping us—I thought you could write in it and leave it behind and I could use the password to read it and we could arrange meetings that way—but I couldn’t manage the charm—good spot of luck we got to be friends with Hermione! I hope you like it. Oh, and the password is “Madam Malkin’s.”  
_

_Yours,_

_Harry_

Draco ran a hand over the leather-bound notebook. It was unassuming, but elegant, and it had a dragon and Celtic knots etched into the cover. He went over to his bedside table and slid the notebook into the drawer—he didn’t want his mother to find it and start asking questions. That’s when he noticed his watch glowing.

The time had changed to 12:31. Draco furrowed his brow for a minute—12:31? And then he realized, Harry was telling him when they would meet next! Draco sent back: 11:45. He was glad he didn’t have to try to hide his smile today; his parents would expect him to be happy on Christmas.

 

***

 

At Hogwarts, Harry was smiling too.

“You’re awful chipper, Harry,” Ron commented.

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Harry replied, grinning down at his watch, which still read “11:45.”

Ron patted his shoulder, “Happy Christmas, mate.”

“Happy Christmas, Ron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, again. Ph.D. stuff, blah, blah, busy days, you know the drill. So I figured I would make this into a Christmas special. And also, it's the second-to-last chapter!  
> Which means I can finally move on from their adorable pre-teen days to when they're older and deeper characters. But, I am not sure when I will be able to write that next fic in the series--there will probably be a couple of one-shots in between, since I won't be writing a full fic for years 2,3, and 4, to fill things in.


End file.
